


second-hand romance

by honeyteeth



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Awkward Dates, Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyteeth/pseuds/honeyteeth
Summary: Much to our dear inspector's surprise, a gorgeous, charming woman has asked him out to one of the most expensive joints in all of Kyoto. Fine dining, fine people, a fine night... this dinner date really is quite a treat that anybody would be lucky to be able to experience!The only problem is, after sitting at a table probably worth his whole life's salary and then some, Zenigata seems to be going on this date... alone.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 78





	1. this was supposed to be a one shot i'll get to p2 later. lazy

“So I’ll take a taxi and you’ll meet up with me around seven, Inspector?” 

A perfectly manicured hand slowly reached upward, patting moisturizer scooped from a small, expensive-looking tin onto lightly puckered lips, which curved into an almost-sultry smile, one quite similar to the expression lingering within hooded blue eyes, lashes laden with mascara and lids exquisitely decorated with light pink eye shadow. The hand then pulled what must’ve been the most high-brow purse Zenigata had ever seen and plopped the tin rather nonchalantly into its confines, other objects rattling around within it upon the impact. 

“I- uh,” he stammered, taking a step back when the woman’s gaze fell directly upon his reddening face, eyes shifting to and fro, not entirely sure whether he should look at her directly or stare at the top of her head. After a moment of sputtering, he realized that he would have to  _ actually  _ provide an answer, so hastily, he let out a quick “yeah, yes. I’ll see you at seven.” before grinning rather sheepishly. He chuckled awkwardly, praying that he didn’t look too pathetic as the woman-- who had been the one to invite  _ him  _ to dinner, thank you very much-- took a few steps forward, jet-black hair spilling wonderfully over her dainty, cardigan-clad shoulders. When he found that his back was suddenly up against the dull grey wall, he tried his best not to look queasy as those fierce red nails playfully fluttered upon his waist, the tips of her manicure threatening to break suit and skin alike. 

“Good,” the woman, Satori, smiled her vixen grin, petite nose wrinkling in a way that could’ve been almost endearing if it didn’t look like she was going to swallow poor Zenigata whole as she cornered him in the hallways of Interpol’s headquarters, the window just to the left of them casting dull, fading light across their bodies.

It was the end of the day, the clock just recently striking five PM, and there were little to no stragglers left within the building. A few remained, though there was only around one officer to a room, for the majority were far too anxious to get to their apartments or hotel rooms or whatever seedy bar they could celebrate the end of a fairly stressful week with.

“It’ll be nice to finally see you in less of a professional setting, you know,” Satori hummed, which snapped Zenigata’s attention back to her as she leaned forward. With a small  _ hmph!  _ she popped up on tiptoe, though she hardly needed to as her goliath six-inch heels combined with the way the inspector was wilting bashfully against the wall made them just about the same height. “you’re always so serious. I want to know what’s behind that, though,” she giggled, her hands pressing further into his waist while his own struggled to find a place to land. Awkwardly, they fumbled about, fingers twitching, palms sweaty, while she tilted her head and leaned ever-closer. He could feel her minty breath hitting his mouth, perfect pearly white teeth poking curiously out from perfect lips which rested calmly against her perfect face. 

She was otherworldly in all of her perfection, the hottest alien Zenigata had ever met.

“Haha um.” He choked out, finally resting his hands lightly on her shoulders, the fabric of her dark cardigan soft beneath his grossly clammy palms, though he didn’t really apply any pressure, far more nervous to touch her than she was to touch him. Obviously.

When a light hum was issued from Satori’s puckered lips, he suddenly got the memo and realized what exactly was happening, heart skipping a beat out of sheer anxiousness. Nervously, almost frantically, his eyes screwed shut when at last, Satori pressed her wonderful rosebud mouth to his own, which most likely tasted of stale cigarettes and the beef-flavored instant ramen he had just eaten only an hour earlier. 

His stomach dropped to the floor, nerves spiking, a cold sweat breaking across the back of his neck as a somewhat sickening feeling clenched in his chest. It was cold, grim almost, and as he attempted to return the gesture, he found that his lips were almost too stiff to pucker. He tried to kiss her, really, he did, but his mind was far too hazy and he was feeling far too uncomfortable to be able to do anything properly, and before he could try any further, the pressure on his lips disappeared as Satori pulled away with what could only be described as a flirtatious giggle.

Oddly enough, he was grateful that it was over-- he didn’t really want to kiss her anyway. 

“Can’t wait,” he grinned, eyebrows knitting together, a chuckle forcing its way out of his throat, praying that her hands would leave his waist soon. Her nails were becoming uncomfortable, and her grip was just a touch too strong for his liking-- not that she was squeezing him, really, he just didn’t really like it when she touched him, though he knew that he should. She was beautiful, was she not? A picture of perfection? He was probably the luckiest guy in the entire force to be able to have the privilege of being kissed by Ms. Ena Satori. In fact, he knew a few guys at his desk clump who would practically  _ pay  _ to be in the inspector’s position, though such an action was futile; sure, she  _ knew  _ how well-liked and popular she was, but Satori was certainly not materialistic. Which was almost surprising due to her expensive taste and jaw-dropping beauty, but it certainly added to her allure.

At last, Satori’s grip loosened and she allowed her hands to slide slowly away from Zenigata’s waist, stepping back and making direct eye contact with him, keeping it ‘til her fingertips were fully off of the inspector. 

With a light smile and playful tilt to her head, she began to turn away, heels clicking loudly against the ugly white tile. “See you soon…  _ Koichi,”  _ she winked, and it took everything in the poor inspector’s power not to chuckle nervously as he had been doing for the past… their entire interaction. 

He was so painfully uncomfortable, not so much that this absolutely astounding woman was hitting on him, but more so that this absolutely astounding woman was hitting on  _ him. Specifically.  _

It just wasn’t possible, couldn’t be, as he was old and clumsy and absolutely horrible when it came to any social situations whatsoever. 

She, though only a few years younger than him, was like porcelain: never aged, never wrinkled (save for a few crow’s feet and deepening laugh lines), just perfect and dainty and graceful in every way. She was so unbelievably gorgeous, in fact, that Zenigata nearly felt  _ bad  _ for being so awkward around her-- surely she deserved someone with much more confidence and… social skills. 

That guilt, however, soon fizzled away when he realized that practically nobody was immune to her opulent charm, and he had seen even the most stoic of men buckle beneath her mere gaze. Under her rhinestone pupils,  _ nobody  _ could even hope to be bold enough to even ask her something as mundane as how her day was going, let alone land a date with her. 

He swallowed hard, producing a smile of his own to reciprocate hers, but it was oh so clearly forced and highly uncomfortable, eyebrows knitting further together, a bead of sweat sliding lazily down his jawline despite the fact that it was still February and it was cold and the building’s central heating had recently puttered out and was completely useless for the time being. Though he wished that he was able to act a little smoother than usual for her, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to produce anything more than a tight-lipped expression, the kind that you would use when making eye-contact with a driver as you walked across the street. 

Suddenly exhausted, he watched as she walked away, her hips swinging rather awkwardly so that with each step, they seemed to jut out to the left and right respectively, which he supposed could’ve been very attractive if he was… well… a little more interested in her.

Without warning, the door to Zenigata’s right creaked open, and with a yelp, he damn near jumped out of his skin, the heavy atmosphere from before instantly being relieved as, with wild eyes, he stared as a figure emerged halfway from the room beside him.

A low whistle accompanied the woman that was revealed when the door fully opened, the bags under her eyes almost as dark as the mop of hair on her head as she shoved her hands inside of her khaki pants pockets, eyebrow arched, somewhat of a smirk on her face. “Wow,” she marveled with a light huff. “you even have her strutting for you, Zenigata,” 

Heartbeat slowing just a tad when he recognized his friend, the inspector turned to face her, feeling a little more comfortable to loosen his tightly wound shoulders. “Strutting?” He asked wearily, watching with somewhat of a forlorn expression as Satori turned the corner, flipping her hair absently over her shoulder. 

“She doesn’t normally walk like she has a broken pelvis, you know,” his co-worker snorted, rooting around in her pockets for a moment. Zenigata watched with mild interest as a half-smoked cigarette was produced, the end a tad wrinkled and smooshed from being shoved hastily into the fabric of the woman’s pants. She had most likely done it so hastily because she was going to be caught smoking within the building, which wasn’t allowed but was practiced regularly. “how the hell did  _ you  _ land a date with a girl like  _ her?” _

“I didn’t,” Zenigata replied, tone of voice sounding less like he was astounded that one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen asked him out and more like he was looking at a clear glass cup that used to have a spider beneath it.  _ “she  _ landed a date with  _ me,”  _

There was a light sputtering sound, and Zenigata turned to see his co-worker practically jumping out at him, eyes wide, mouth hanging open like a dead carp’s would.

“There’s no way that she asked you out first!” She choked, and the inspector could only shrug, almost apologetically. Incredulously, his coworker, Dr. Mizuki of the forensics department, gazed off into the distance almost as though she were performing in a shitty soap opera. “Fuck, man, I guess you’re a lot sexier than we all thought,” she managed to chuckle out, furrowing her brow.

“Guess so,” 

Mizuki scoffed. “No need to sound so down about it. Shouldn’t you be excited?” 

“Probably, yeah,” 

“Aren’t you?” 

“If I say no, will you be mad?” 

“Absolutely furious,” 

“Then sure, I’m excited I guess,” Zenigata deadpanned, and it was obvious that he had probably never been less excited about something in his whole life. 

Which was strange, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t he want to go on a date with somebody as gorgeous, interesting, and mysterious as she was? Shouldn’t he be through the roof and over the moon that he had been the one who was asked instead of the other way around? Wasn’t this the ultimate dream? 

“You know,” his coworker began, her thin eyebrow twitching ever so slightly as she looked away. “if you’d rather not go on a date with her, then I could fill in. I’ll tell her you were ah-- busy or something. With Lupin,”

“Standing up somebody like Satori with the excuse that I’m ‘busy with Lupin’ most definitely sounds like I’m ditching  _ her  _ and going on a date with  _ him  _ instead, you realize that right?” 

“I guess, but I mean…”

“No, I’m not letting you steal my date so that I can be alone on a Friday night… again,” 

“Oh, get fucked,” rolling her eyes, Mizuki finally popped the half-smoked cigarette between her lips, though she made no move to light it, probably submitting to a force of oral fixation rather than actually following through with a habit.

“I sure hope not,” the inspector murmured, but thankfully, it was quiet enough so that his friend wouldn’t be able to hear. 

For a small moment, a blanket of silence fell over them in a thick sheet, a little awkward by nature but mostly comfortable as they stood in the hallway together, Mizuki finally stepping out of the doorway to join him in leaning against the wall. Through the window, afternoon light began to slide further down their bodies, drenching the thin layer of snow outside in rays of molten gold that were sure to melt it and slick up the roads and sidewalks lest they be salted in the next fifteen to twenty-odd minutes. It’d be quite the hassle to get home, let alone drive to the restaurant that Zenigata and Satori had agreed upon (it was someplace much fancier than the poor inspector’s budget could handle), but for the time being, that didn’t matter so much. 

The inspector enjoyed quiet moments such as this one, found comfort hidden within the way he shuffled the soles of his shoes against the dirty old tile and his coworker tapping her fingers calmly against the sleeves of her white button-down, once freshly pressed and neat, now covered in wrinkles and a small coffee stain right near the elbow.

Finally, Mizuki opened her mouth to speak, expression far away, eyes ever so slightly glazed, almost as though there was something important on her mind. Curiously, Zenigata turned to face her, a slight frown on his face as he awaited whatever words were lingering right at the edge of his friend’s tongue. 

“Say,” she said quietly, and the hint of a stutter in the way she said it made Zenigata slide upward against the wall, standing up a little straighter, concern taking hold of his bones as he stared with furrowed brows at the woman before him. Was she trembling? 

“Um,” she tried again, voice wavering slightly. “did Satori actually call you by your first name?” 

With a snort, Mizuki burst into laughter, and Zenigata instantly realized that the tremor in her words was not so much embarrassment or sadness as it was her trying desperately (and failing miserably) to hold said laughter  _ in. _

“She really thinks lowly of you if she uses it after you guys have barely talked!” Mizuki hemmed and hawed, grinning impishly as she continued to laugh. 

With a huff, Zenigata rolled his eyes, slouching against the wall once more, crossing his arms over his chest in a childish pout as his cheeks grew hot and uncomfortable, humiliation etched into every line on his face.

The restaurant that Satori had picked for their date was jam-packed with high-brow men and women adorned in jewelry and lavish suits and positively gorgeous dresses that probably cost Zenigata’s entire salary. They spoke with fluid, smooth voices, rich and thick as butter, yet at the same time as delicate as a spring breeze. Hair was slicked back or pulled up or spilling over flawless tuxedos and intricate blouses, hands were clean and moisturized and manicured ‘til they were practically glittering. Each time he accidentally brushed up against somebody, Zenigata caught a whiff of delicate perfume, almost as if each guest was once a wildflower and produced their own wonderful fragrance. 

That was only the  _ guests  _ though-- the building itself was the physical form of the color red and the word passion. 

The carpets were clean and dark, and each circular mahogany table adorned with a crimson tablecloth that held shivering, crystal champagne flutes and a small, opalescent blue vase containing a single rose that sat high and proud, stems de-thorned and de-leaved, the petals rich and cushiony and soft as silk. Each plate was spotless and completely immaculate, each fork, spoon, and knife placed in the proper space and polished ‘til you could see your reflection in them.

In an obviously expensive room full of ethereal beings that were probably loaded with more money than he could even hope to see, Zenigata felt very small in his own shabby little tux.

Plain black, white bowtie (done rather sloppily as he had never been… quite the best at them), it was very obviously old and had a few tears along the hems of the pants or seams of his sleeves. His dress shoes weren’t faring any better, all scuffed and dirty at the soles and about five years old (he rarely wore them which was the only reason they weren’t falling apart entirely). He managed to dig up the cologne that he had forgotten about, something like clove and cinnamon, but compared to everybody here it was practically just essence of musk, and the more he caught a whiff of it on his sleeves or wrist or the collar of his tux, his cheeks burned a new shade of red. 

He was the second-hand sweater in a room full of designer masterpieces.

As he followed a polite waitress dressed to the nines in a suit twenty times better than his own, he could’ve sworn he felt eyes boring judgemental holes in every inch of his painfully obviously broke self, each footstep seeming to draw more and more attention to his embarrassingly shoddy attire and hastily styled hair, which he brushed out and smoothed over once and twice and three times over, but a fairly peculiar curl in the front never  _ quite  _ sat still, so it stuck out like a sore thumb against his otherwise… okayish, neatly combed hair. 

Of course, though, whenever he glanced up, daring to make eye contact with the very people he could’ve sworn were mocking him, he was met with nothing but a polite nod or a friendly grin or even a cheeky wink as partners slung arms ‘round giggling shoulders and interlocked giddy fingers. 

He had brought flowers with him to give to Satori-- not roses, though, for from what he understood roses were a grand gesture of love (or at least that was what he had been taught), and he figured that doing something so blatant might end up scaring her away, and though he wasn’t particularly interested in her, he still wanted to make her feel comfortable. So, instead, he brought a small bouquet of forget-me-nots and baby’s breath, which he didn’t exactly know the meaning of if there was any at all, but they were his two personal favorites and he found them to be quite attractive when combined. 

However, walking through the ocean of ladies and gentlemen who were practically worth their weight in gold, many of them carrying their  _ own  _ bouquets, his poor arrangement of flowers looked unbelievably meager and completely unappealing. The tiny blooms that stood atop dull grey-green stems couldn’t even  _ hope  _ to hold a candle to the bushels of thick red roses and bright, golden daffodils and lilies that were so waxy and thick that they looked too perfect to be real. Peonies and carnations, orchids and gerbera, these people had the whole kit n’ caboodle when it came to romance, and Zenigata very clearly wasn’t up to par with any of them. 

“Your table, sir,” the waitress said politely, her voice soft and sweet as she pulled out a chair almost too intricately made to sit on. Zenigata thanked her and took a seat anyway, though, nodding and smiling as he plopped down atop the hard, slightly uncomfortable wood and grabbing the bottom portion so that he could scoot himself up. 

“Thank you,” he said, and she merely hummed in response. 

“I assume your date will be arriving shortly, sir?” She asked, smoothly pulling a stark white notepad away from her waistband, a pen seeming to materialize in her left hand, whose thumb clicked the top of the sleek, black ballpoint.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, though his voice was far clumsier when he heard it back-to-back with the waitress’. His cheeks flushed lightly. 

“Fantastic. Can I get you something to sip on while you wait?” 

“Oh, ah, water is fine, thank you, if you don’t mind,”

“It’s no problem at all. Lemon?”

“Pardon?” 

Pushing back a small smile, the waitress shook her head lightly. “Do you want lemon in your water?” 

This time, the inspector did more than blush just a little bit, as the heat was now crawling down to his collar bone and kissing the tips of his ear. “Oh,” he murmured, feeling suddenly very stuffy and hot beneath his suit. “no thank you,” 

“Noted. I’ll have that out in just a second, sir, thank you for coming,” 

“Thanks,” he tossed her a sheepish grin, one that she either didn’t see or chose to ignore as she walked away, apron fluttering lightly over her mile-long legs. 

Sighing, Zenigata allowed himself to slouch ever so slightly, relaxing into the uncomfortable chair-- as expensive as it was, his ass certainly hated it-- and beginning to poke absently at the cloth napkin resting atop his plate, shaped meticulously like a swan. The one on the other side of the table was  _ also  _ shaped like a swan, although the beak was just a little longer than Zenigata’s. 

(There was a joke there, but he blatantly ignored it in favor of poking at his silverware)

He wondered when Satori would be arriving, and whether she was dressed just as lavishly as the people surrounding the inspector. Surely she would be, as it simply seemed to be in her nature to take on the lifestyle of somebody who made much more money than she did in her job at the Interpol HQ here in Kyoto.

Quite a large part of Zenigata wished that she wasn’t all gussied up, though. That maybe, instead, she was seen in something just a tad more modest, or perhaps fancy by  _ her  _ standards rather than anybody else’s. She  _ seemed _ like the type of person to follow her own personal fashion trends, didn’t she? She certainly did at the office, and to Zenigata, she always looked very pretty no matter how cheap her outfit seemed. 

Frowning down into his distorted reflection on the spoon, the inspector suddenly came up with a new problem to stew over: what the hell were they supposed to talk about? Did they have anything in common? Had they ever even talked before this? She had simply… come up to him that  _ very  _ day and asked him out, easy as pie. 

No warning, no signs, just her easing her way over to his desk clump somewhere around seven AM when he first sat down, stretching and still groggy, reaching for his styrofoam cup of bitter, unsweetened coffee that tasted like dirt but he loved it regardless.

Her heels made a soft noise against the carpet, so it wasn’t until her shadow fell across the inspector’s work that he turned around with a quiet yelp, eyes wide, the tiniest frown evident on his face as, confused, he stared up at her. 

She was smiling, he remembered, her perfect lips drawn into one of the most pleasant and amiable expressions he had ever seen, her head tilted casually to one side, one hand resting atop the swell of her hip. 

Awkwardly, and fumbling to stand up so that he could greet her properly, he wished her a good morning and explained to her that he had just gotten started, and if it was progress she was looking for, she would need to come back in a few moments. 

“I don’t care about that, I know you work hard,” she had said, patting him nonchalantly on the shoulder and walking by him to lean against his desk. Gracefully, she crossed one ankle over the other, allowing her head to flop rather lazily over to whichever shoulder it desired, dark hair framing her wonderfully symmetrical face. At that moment, there was a glitter in her almond eyes, one that admittedly made the poor inspector nervous enough to ease back down into his chair, anticipating what she was going to say next, sure that this surprise visit would be nothing more than either pleasantries born from the boredom of the early mornings or grim, grim news. 

It had, been neither, however, and when she picked up a pen and began to toy with it, eyes flickering over to Zenigata as she opened her mouth and said easily “Would you like to go out on a date with me?” Zenigata felt his heart seize in his chest. 

He hadn’t been asked out on a date-- a  _ real, actual date!  _ wow! _ \--  _ in a very, very long time, and all he was able to do was open and close his mouth as he searched for an answer. 

He said yes, of course, because how the hell could anybody possibly say no to a date with somebody like her? And she smiled that radiant smile of hers, fully hopping up onto his desk and kicking her heels rather cutely in what must’ve been excitement. 

“I’m glad!” She exclaimed, giggling quite sweetly. Zenigata swallowed hard, refusing to make direct eye contact with her, nerves suddenly on the fritz as he realized what exactly had just happened. “I’ll write you the address of the restaurant I want us to visit, and all you have to do is meet me there at seven PM… sharp. So don’t be late, okay?” She cooed, rooting around atop the inspector’s desk ‘til she picked up a yellow legal notepad and began to scribble down something with the pen she had been toying with earlier. 

When she offered the pad back to him, she slid off of his desk (taking two or three papers along with her by accident) and tousled his hair with her thin, elegant fingers as he stared in awe at her perfect cursive handwriting and the little hearts that she dotted her i’s with.

As she walked away, he noticed with some amusement was how the time was written down and traced over before being circled twice and underlined for emphasis, so he figured that she must really quite enjoy punctuality, which was something he understood and respected. It was important to be on time, especially for outings such as this one, and he was glad that the details were so specific-- otherwise, he might think that this date was a fluke.

So, the time and location of the event stuck to his mind all day whilst he worked, as he was determined not to fuck up something that could actually be… enjoyable. He wasn’t excited about it, per se, as being around the woman made him practically queasy, but at the same time, he knew that amidst the ache of his churning stomach, there had to be  _ some  _ butterflies.

It was now twenty-five minutes past seven, and Satori still hadn’t shown up. Maybe she didn’t care all that much about punctuality after all-- that, or her taxi had simply gotten lost or stuck in traffic, or anything else really, so Zenigata wasn’t bothered whatsoever, as he knew  _ exactly  _ what it was like to be late to something on account of road troubles. Hell, he had even left a little early in order to avoid traffic, and he only just barely managed to make it five minutes to seven PM, so it made perfect sense that there would be a jam or a clog or whatever else keeping Satori from being able to join him. 

Instead of worrying too much about it, he drained the second glass of water the waitress had brought him, nearly choking on the lemon which rested quite sloppily atop the ice, extremely disintegrated what with little lemon particles floating about at the very bottom of the extraordinarily fancy glass. A few of those particles got caught between his teeth as he tipped his head back and swallowed what was left of the water, but he thankfully managed to pick them out with his tongue.

Lightly, he sniffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he tried to set down the glass as quietly as possible, beginning to feel a crick form in his back from sitting up too straight for too long. 

Scrunching his nose, he shifted in his seat, uncomfortably wobbling around in the chair ‘til he found a position that was… somewhat livable. Annoyed and feeling just a tad cramped, he huffed, casting an accusatory glare down towards his seating arrangement as though  _ that  _ was going to help anything to do with his posture. 

Did he really have such a bad back that it would hurt if he even dared to sit up straight? Surely he would be able to fix something like that, right? It wasn’t as if he were too old to change how he sat. 

Then again, he knew himself, and he knew that if he tried to develop a good habit such as sitting up straight he would fail about two and a half days in. It simply wasn’t in his nature-- and you know what? If he grew older and older and wound up looking like the Hunchback of Notre Dame, then so be it. He could live with something like that. 

He reached up onto the table, risking manners and allowing his elbow to rest against the top as he picked up his fork, the silverware glinting in the warm yellow light that enveloped the entire restaurant. He tilted it to and fro, watching as the glow shifted from position to position with each curve of his fingers, dull eyes squinting when a beam of reflected candlelight pierced his pupils, hand automatically letting go of the fork.

It fell atop his plate with a clatter, and immediately he jolted, far too alert of his surroundings as, owlishly, he whipped his head around and tried to see whether or not anybody was staring at him with judgment hazing their expressions. 

The noise had been fairly loud-- but thankfully, he realized as his nerves calmed just a tad-- nobody had been able to hear. There were already clattering sounds afoot, the distant clink and rustle from the kitchen, the scrape of a fork against a plate, the dull roar of conversation that melted off of everybody in the whole restaurant, so the racket he had caused went unnoticed. 

He breathed a light sigh of relief, returning to his previous position with his elbow on the table, though this time he rested his cheek against his palm, staring at the empty chair across from him and wondering when it’d be filled. 

At this point, it had only been thirty minutes since the designated time had passed, so he still wasn’t exactly nervous. Sure, half an hour  _ could  _ be considered cutting it close when it came to anybody else, but Zenigata knew exactly what it was like to be behind the clock, plus dates didn’t have the same rules as professional business meetings. Dates weren’t exactly casual, but they  _ were  _ rather lenient, and both the inspector and Satori had the  _ entire  _ night to make up for thirty measly minutes. 

Besides, he was sure that she would be there soon.

The fifty-minute mark had come and gone, 8 PM creeping closer and closer upon the night, sun almost completely down as the full moon began to climb higher in the sky. 

From the bathroom window, Zenigata was able to see her fattened shape in all of its magnificently round glory as he scrubbed absently at the suds clinging to his chilly hands, sleeves rolled up in messy bunches, a few drops of water clinging to his shoes from when he had accidentally redirected the stream of water from the sink.

There was nobody else in the bathroom except him, all seven stalls empty and completely devoid of any life (save for perhaps a spider or cockroach, but Zenigata was fairly certain that this establishment was far too luxurious to house vermin such as them). It was definitely a nice change of pace in comparison to the room just beyond him filled to the brim with lovely men and women, all perfect and beautiful and very… very…  _ very  _ expensive.

At least it really was a lovely night, he thought as he reached out to turn the water off, though he missed the first time. And second. And he would’ve missed it a third had a sliver of common sense not come and smack him over the head, warning him just how embarrassing it would be if he failed to turn off the water  _ again. _

He blinked lightly, glancing down at the two knobs that made hot and cold water, twisting the one to his right ‘til the stream stopped completely and there was complete silence in the grandiose smooth tile walls and marble floors save for one, two, three _drip drip drip_ s of water that fell into the basin before shutting up completely. 

After this dinner was over, he’d be able to take his date on a stroll if she was dressed warm enough, and if not, maybe they could pack up shop and book it to a small café. They could drink coffee and eat warm pastries and talk about how nice the previous meal was and how perfectly gorgeous the full moon looked as it cast off its butter glow and melted everything it touched. He could tell her about his favorite leisurely activities, and she would tell him about hers-- and, of course, he would find each and every one of them interesting and wildly jarring. 

Zenigata considered drying his hands off on the fabric of his pants but thought otherwise when he realized that he was neither at work nor home, and something like that completely lacked the necessary manners needed to eat at someplace so fancy. So, he turned towards the towel rack and ran his damp fingers along the plush material, marveling at how soft something like a  _ towel _ could be. 

As he began to exit the bathroom, shoes clicking neatly against the marble, he thought about what would happen  _ after  _ their little café escapade (assuming that there even was one to look forward to). 

Would he carefully drive her home, making sure not to skid on the ice as she nodded off in the passenger seat? When they arrived back at her apartment, would he reach over and gently pry her awake? Would he walk her up to her front door, maybe offer his jacket just in case it was a little too frigid outside for Satori’s liking? Would she lean in just before he left? Brush her dainty fingers to his jaw? Catch him in a sweet, melting kiss goodnight? Then what? He hadn’t gone on a date in so long, it felt as though he had forgotten-- which, really, when he thought about it sounded very, very pathetic, but one can’t concentrate on romance too much when the person you’ve dedicated your life to just so happens to be an international thief that you have to spend every waking moment trying to capture. 

When Zenigata exited the bathroom and walked back toward his table, he half expected Satori to be sitting expectantly at the other side of his chair, smiling that wonderfully exquisite smile of hers, batting those mile-long lashes of hers, waving those pretty, manicured fingers of hers.

Of course, though, when he spotted his seat-- the only empty table amidst a sea of couples-- she was not there, and a fresh glass of water was placed over on his side, condensation trickling down in beads onto the cloth, leaving dark damp spots wherever they landed. 

His stomach dropped just a tad, and he swallowed hard while awkwardly maneuvering around the ocean of guests amidst the tables and chairs. 

Alright, so maybe she was running  _ extra  _ late. That was okay, right? Sometimes people did that, and the date could still be saved. In fact, he  _ knew  _ it could be saved because soon, she would walk through that door and he would sweep her off her feet (or she would sweep him off of his, he didn’t mind either way) and they would have a fun night regardless of how behind she fell. 

Nine forty-five. 

The waitress had already brought three more glasses of water and was now walking over towards a very disheartened Zenigata with a single plate in her hand, looking anxious and timid and probably everything the inspector himself was feeling. 

He only realized what the plate was when she gently placed it in front of him, nudging it lightly in order to give it the proper angle as she stepped back and allowed Zenigata to fully take in the sight of a fat slice of cake-- chocolate, it seemed, with rich dark frosting and small, pink rosettes at the very top, all covered in glaze and lightly shining with a smattering of edible luster dust-- staring back at him (as much as a slice of cake  _ could  _ stare). He blinked, sitting up straight and gazing at the treat for a moment or two before, with a puzzled expression on his face, he turned to the waitress. 

“I think… you have the wrong table,” he said lightly, frowning softly. He hadn’t ordered  _ anything  _ yet; he was waiting for Satori to join him. 

However, judging from the expression on the waitress’ face, he slowly began to come to the icy realization that his table for two had not been necessary after all. 

“It’s um-- it’s on us,” she said nervously, awkwardly scratching at the back of her neck, refusing to make eye contact as her gaze darted every which way  _ except  _ towards Zenigata. “because your date is… um… late,” 

“Right,” he said, forcing a smile, though the exhaustion in his eyes was obvious. “mind if I have this to go? I’ll pay for it,” 

“Of course, sir-- but ah, you don’t need to pay, it’s seriously on us,” 

Chuckling, Zenigata pushed himself back on his chair. “Nonsense,” he hummed, reaching into his pocket to pad around for his wallet. “it’s not like it’s  _ policy  _ to give free things to people who’ve had their dates stand ‘em up,”

When, instead of replying she gave a tiny, false cough and grimaced ever so slightly, the inspector froze and stared at her with slowly widening eyes as his half-smile slowly began to droop into an incredulous frown. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” 

“I’ll get you you a box, sir,” the waitress murmured, and before Zenigata could say anything more, she was walking quickly away, bowing her head in something that wasn’t shame but must’ve been pity.

So it really  _ was  _ policy to give a free slice of cake to those who were stood up by their dates, huh? 

The initial shock of realizing that he had been left behind was slowly beginning to ebb away, quite similar to the way the guests in the restaurant were beginning to trickle out as the building’s closing time of ten-thirty began to slowly close in.

It wasn’t as though he hadn’t considered this option, really. As a matter of fact, part of him had expected it. A woman as beautiful, flawless, and graceful as Satori probably didn’t want  _ anything  _ to do with some washed-up cop like him-- if he were her, he wouldn’t want to either. She probably just didn’t realize it when she asked him out, maybe even thought that he was somebody different or somebody that was worth going on a date with. Somebody that was interesting, that was handsome, that was funny, that was everything Zenigata wasn’t. 

Did it sting? Sure, of course. It always did. But this wasn’t his first rodeo (though it was his first pity cake), and he knew how to deal with being on a one-man date. Over the course of his lifetime, he had gone and been stood up on a few lousy dates, each time being ditched by some beautiful, beautiful girl that he already knew couldn’t be bothered to give him the time of day-- he already knew, and yet there he was, still trying to successfully make a move them.

He didn’t even  _ like  _ Satori-- she was cool and funny and fairly nice and  _ unbelievably  _ gorgeous, but she just wasn’t his type. They didn’t have the same sense of humor, didn’t share the same taste in food or movies or drinks or whatever else you could think of. They weren’t similar in the slightest, had no chemistry to make them somehow “get” one another-- they seemed to be from two entirely different planets. 

So did Zenigata care that his date had up and left him before she even sat down? 

Sure, yeah. Maybe just a little. 

But was he upset? Embarrassed? Ashamed and disappointed in himself? Feeling insignificant and wildly unworthy by any and everybody simply because of this one instance? 

Not at all (obviously). 

He would just have to go home, eat his complimentary pity-cake, and then fall asleep. He would feel perfectly fine in the morning, and he would probably forget about this whole thing come Sunday because that was simply what he had to do in these situations. He knew how to deal with them, knew what was best for himself, knew that getting asked out on a date only to be left at the restaurant you agreed to meet at wasn’t anything to get sad over. So he wasn’t sad. Not even a little bit.

“Stood up, eh Pops? I gotta admit, that sounds pretty awful,” 

The voice made the inspector’s train of thought jump the rails, and instantly, he whipped his head up with enough force to snap his neck, eyes bulging from their sockets, mouth slowly opening, though he was completely silent, brown eyes blinking at dark gray, which twinkled in response as Zenigata’s brow furrowed and his lips turned to a frown.

“Lupin?” He asked softly, still unable to believe that the thief was there, sitting across from him in the seat that would’ve belonged to Satori had she shown up. 

“In the flesh,” Lupin hummed in response, sounding rather pleased with himself as he did so, leaning forward on the table and resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. “you know, at first I thought this date of yours was Fujiko pulling your leg, but this is the real deal. You actually got ditched, old man,” 

As if to clear his mind, Zenigata shook his head and looked away, expression in more of a pout than he wanted it to be. “Not like it’s any of  _ your  _ business, you dirty monkey, but yeah, I did,” he snapped, leaning fully back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. 

From the other side of the table, Lupin merely giggled. “No need to get catty on me, my dear inspector, I just thought you might like some company in your hour of desperation,” he cooed in mock sympathy, and it took everything in Zenigata’s willpower not to pick up the plate of expensive cake and hurl it across the table right into Lupin’s smug face. Not that he felt bad about being stood up or anything, but he seriously didn’t need this. Not right now. 

“Please, I know you’re only here to make fun of me,” he growled, leaning forward with what he hoped to be a threatening grumble. Absently, he lamented to himself how disappointing it was that he didn’t have handcuffs, and realized that if he wanted to wheel Lupin into the big house today he would most likely have to use brute force.

However, before he could make a single move or lay a single finger on the shit-eating grin sitting across from him with his thin legs crossed and a fishhook caught in his left eyebrow, Zenigata was forced to change his disposition when he saw the waitress from earlier approaching the table. 

In her hands, she held an open cardboard container, the kind that you slide two pieces together to close. On the side was the restaurant’s name in gold cursive, the letters perfect and satisfying as they looped and curled around one another, the rich color combining nicely with the brown of the box itself.

She looked shocked to find another person had joined Zenigata, eyeing Lupin with curiosity that she didn’t even attempt to mask as, rather absently, she set the box down atop the table and blinked her eyes, mascara-heavy lashes fluttering with the movement. 

“Hello sir,” she said distantly, a tiny, puzzled frown tugging at her pink lips, nearly setting the box on top of the cake. Quickly, her expression changed to one of warmth as she smiled, rummaging around ‘til she managed to pull out her pad and pen, grinning at the pair of men. “oh, you must be Mr. Zenigata’s date! We were worried you weren’t going to show up. I’m glad you made it in time, Mr…” her voice trailed off, clearly waiting for a name. 

Immediately, the inspector felt his face light up like a damned Christmas tree, cheeks flushed so red they could be mistaken for a pair of tomatoes as he opened his mouth, raising his finger and ready to rebuke the waitress’s statement immediately. Did she actually think that he and Lupin were out on a  _ date?  _ Him, Inspector Zenigata of Interpol going on a romantic outing with master thief Arsène Lupin the Third who he had been tasked to capture? Is that what she really thought was going on here?

“Lupin,” Lupin said simply. 

Silently, Zenigata gawked at him with a slack jaw. He had actually answered her instead of correcting her. Had he? Surely he hadn’t. There was no way. 

_ Was there?  _

“Lovely, thank you,” the waitress tittered kindly, though there was a clear edge behind her voice that warned the pair there would be hell to pay if they stayed for any longer, as the restaurant would be closing in just around an hour. “I’m very glad your date arrived, Mr. Zenigata, but please feel welcome to the cake anyway, free of charge. For now, though, what can I get you two gentlemen started with today? Any drinks?” 

“This is fine, thank you miss,” Lupin said matter-of-factly before Zenigata could even open his mouth. “I need  _ just  _ a moment to decide,”

With a quick nod, she was off again, shuffling between guests and politely excusing herself whenever she happened to bump into somebody. 

The instant she was out of earshot, Zenigata practically growled at Lupin, slamming his hands down flat on the table and leaning forward, fixing him with the meanest glare he could muster. 

“Just what are you playing at?” He snarled. “Are you planning on robbing this place? Are you trying to get inside information from me? I’ll admit, this is probably one of your laziest, tackiest attempts I’ve ever seen, and it’s a damn shame I was going on a date, otherwise, I’d have cuffed you already,” 

Leaning forward as well, though with far less anger clouding his expression, Lupin smiled amicably, his eyes seeming to soften ever so slightly. “It really  _ is  _ quite a shame you were going on a date. Otherwise,  _ I’d  _ have cuffed  _ you, _ if you catch what I’m saying,” 

Zenigata frowned, puzzled at first but not letting up his aggression as, disdainfully, he rolled his eyes and slammed back into his seat. “That doesn’t make sense. You don’t even  _ own  _ handcuffs--” a realization struck him, and his eyes widened slightly. If he had feathers, they would sure as hell be ruffled. “--unless that’s how you’re planning on getting information outta me! By trapping me somewhere and binding my hands! That’s low, you know, even for you,” 

Lupin only snorted in response, arching an eyebrow, still leaning forward, cheek smooshed up against his hand. “That… the term ‘cuffed’ is when… well, what you’re thinking isn’t what I meant at all, but I wasn’t really expectin’ you to get the joke anyway. No offense, Pops, but you’re a little behind on the new slang,” 

“Okay, then what does it mean?” 

“Nah, nothing, nothing, the joke came and went,” the thief sighed somewhat dramatically, but the inspector was used to his theatrics, so it didn’t bother him all that much. 

Even still, he knew that Lupin had to be up to  _ something.  _ It wasn’t like him to just show up out of the blue with no plan to get rich wherever he was showing up. Maybe the inspector would be able to pry it out of him-- though then again, the thief seemed to be in quite a chatty mood, so maybe all he had to do was ask. Would that work, though? It wasn’t as though he would be honest if confronted. 

But he also  _ might. _

Lupin was finicky like that, and as much as he kept his lips shut, he also loved to blab about his new plans and how devious they would be. Was that what he was doing? Trying to tell Zenigata all about a new plan he had whipped up? Was he going to say where he was gonna strike next rather than send a calling card? It was certainly something that he would do, and it was certainly something he had already done. 

However, there was no way to be certain when all that was going on was awkward eye contact and strange, almost familiar banter between the two. If Zenigata was going to ask, he would have to do it now.

Rolling his eyes, a little calmer now that he knew Lupin was clearly not actively going for anything, he spoke, voice steady. “What do you want, hm? I know you’re not just here to have dinner,” he crossed his arms over his chest, drumming his fingers calmly along his arm as his gaze flicked over the thief’s expression, looking for any twitches or quirks that could possibly signify mischief.

“Looks like you caught me,” Lupin giggled, somewhat sheepish if he even  _ could  _ be sheepish as he shifted positions, now lacing his hands out in front of him and resting his chin atop the conjoined bridge of fingers. “I’ll admit, I only came here because I was worried about you. See, I heard through the grapevine that you had landed yourself a hot date with someone comparable to my dear Fujicakes-- congrats, by the way, I don’t know how you got her to agree--” 

_ “She  _ asked  _ me,  _ actually, and  _ I  _ said yes,” Zenigata interrupted, feeling wildly embarrassed about the notion that he would have his mind on romance long enough to ask somebody out. He wasn’t entirely sure _ why  _ he felt so ashamed of something so normal, but he did, and he felt the urge to broadcast that he was not the one to make the first move. “I would never ask somebody way outta my league like that out on a date,”

There was a momentary pause, silence falling over the pair as Lupin merely stared, mouth opening and closing slowly as he searched for the words he wanted to use next. “Wow, so she asked you? And  _ then _ stood you up? Which means that...” he blinked, and just for a moment, Zenigata was able to see his expression falter. There was something hidden behind his playful gaze, not so much like guilt, but not so much like pity, either. In some strange sort of way, it almost felt like… sympathy. “Actually no, no, no. Absolutely not. You know what Pops?” 

Zenigata was surprised by Lupin’s sudden tone of voice, serious determination strong and hard compared to what he sounded like earlier. He was all wound up, cheeks tinted just a little bit pink,

“Um. What?” The inspector asked, slightly nervous at what was to come what with how Lupin’s entire demeanor had changed… rather drastically.

“Pack up your cake, we can share it back at your hotel.” 

Without so much as a warning, Lupin pushed back in his chair, standing up as he did so and slinging his foot around one of the legs to push the chair back beneath the table. One hand found itself comfortably nestled within the confines of his pocket, while the other began to slowly offer itself to the inspector as, with his silly bow-legged gait, Lupin rounded the table and stood in front of Zenigata.

“I’ve decided that you’ll be finishing this date-- with  _ me,”  _

And then, right in the middle of a fancy, expensive restaurant with fancy, expensive food and fancy, expensive decorations and fancy, expensive guests, Zenigata positively  _ lost it.  _

He couldn’t remember a time where he had laughed so hard, clutching his middle and wheezing for breath, forehead pressed to the table, mouth open but no sound coming out in a painful wail of laughter that was evident through each violent tremor that shook his shoulders and made him kick his feet within each giddy bout of giggles. 

“You--!” He managed to choke out, though was cut off with a snort as he turned his head, cheek now pressed up against the table, grin a mile and a half wide as he stared up at a very confused Lupin with tear-stained vision. 

“Pops?” Lupin asked softly, cheeks deepening in shades of pink ‘til they were bright red and practically glowing with heat. “Um. Zenigata?” 

“This is--!” Zenigata chortled, a tear slipping past his eye and rolling down his cheek as he snorted and gasped for air. “This! This--! This is the  _ stupidest  _ way you’ve  _ ever  _ tried to fool me!” He hiccuped, stumbling over his words as he failed to contain his laughter, stomach aching so hard it began to actually hurt. 

“I’m not,” Lupin frowned, his expression completely serious. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me! I know bullshit when I smell it, Lupin, and you absolutely  _ reek.  _ Come on, now, I’m not  _ that  _ stupid!” The inspector was finally beginning to regain his composure, sighing deeply and giggling every few seconds or so, but otherwise managing to string together full sentences and speak articulately. Mostly. 

“You aren’t stupid,” Lupin murmured. His hand was still held out, though it seemed more like he had forgotten about it rather than offering it as he had earlier. “I mean it, Pops! I’m not trying to play you for a fool. No ulterior motive, I promise,” 

“So you aren’t trying to butter me up to get information out of me? Or perhaps distract me long enough so that your right and left-hand men can swipe something right from behind my back? Yeah, no Lupin, you can’t possibly be serious about this,” Zenigata chuckled but began to scoop the cake into his to-go box anyway. It slid into the cardboard with a rather undignified  _ slap,  _ leaving a trail of glossy frosting on the otherwise pristine plate it had come on. 

“I am, though!” Lupin protested, borderline pouting as Zenigata merely rolled his eyes, pushing himself back from his seat, chuckling lightly from his chest, shaking his head lightly. “You’re getting up,” the thief blinked, voice sounding hopeful-- there was no doubt he was faking it, though. 

“Yeah,” Zenigata replied, standing fully with his box, pushing in the chair with his free hand and arching an eyebrow at Lupin. “to leave,” he said matter-of-factly, and Lupin almost shrunk behind his words. 

“C’mon now, Pops, don’t be so stubborn! I only wanna make you feel better,” 

“I don’t need to be cheered up-- especially by you, y’know-- because I don’t feel  _ bad.  _ These things happen. And besides, I know for a fact that you’re not just trying to make me ‘feel better,’ you weasel, you’ve always got some trick up your sleeve,” 

“Not this time!” 

“Uh-huh. Here,” Zenigata snorted and pushed the cardboard box containing his complimentary you-just-got-ditched treat into the hand that Lupin was  _ still  _ holding out for him to presumably take. He wasn’t going to look like an idiot twice in one night; that simply wasn’t an option. Right now, he just wanted to go home and forget about the entire situation. “you take this since I guess that now, your uh.  _ Date,”  _ he scoffed. “is leaving,” 

At that, Lupin frowned, not saying anything more as Zenigata turned on his heel and began to walk away from the table, hooking his thumbs casually in his pockets as he did so, trying to look as unaffected by whatever the hell had just happened. 

Because truth be told, his heart was  _ racing  _ at the aspect of Lupin finishing his date for him. 

It was absolutely pounding in his chest, beating hard against his ribs and threatening to pop right out and land directly on that boujee carpet at the notion that Lupin had even made such an offer. Duh, sure, he was faking it, and there was no doubt that  _ somebody  _ was going to be robbed blind by the time they were finished, but really now, could you blame him for getting flustered over the prospect? He had laughed then, sure, but it was mostly to cover up the heat bleeding into his cheeks. Part of him wished he had ordered a few drinks from that poor waitress that kept coming back to him; if he was just a  _ tiny bit  _ less sober, there was no doubt he would accept the thief’s offer.

He opened the door, a rush of cold air sweeping across him and biting instantly at his nose which he wrinkled in some weak attempt at defense from the chill. Shivering, he stepped out, shoes crunching against that thin layer of snow that had picked up once more, though it was sure to be gone come tomorrow. In fact, as spring gently crept up on the winter season, all of Japan was thawing out, the days slowly becoming longer and the nights becoming warmer. It was a good change from the hiss and sting of the winter winds, that was for damned sure. 

Zenigata stepped toward his car, patting around his breast pocket where he had placed his keys and reaching out for the handle on instinct. At last, he produced the silver keychain and began to unlock to door, reaching toward the lock so that he could actually complete the task. 

Had his hands been shaking so hard the entire night? 

With widened eyes, he stared down at each tremor coursing through each digit, a light frown spread across his mouth while the key grasped between his fingers damn near slipped and fell onto the snowy ground due to the sheer force of his trembling. 

Why was he shaking so bad? Why  _ now?  _ Was it really that cold outside? 

Surely not, he thought as he swallowed hard and tried to steady himself, having to gently shift positions, snow crunching beneath his feet, so that he could lean forward and rest his forehead on his frosted window. 

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the way his knees were growing weaker by the second, tried to pretend like he didn’t feel his stomach dropping to the floor with every pant that clouded from his parted lips. He could feel the fear, the anxiety, the ache all the way to his core, his nerves shocking themselves over and over with the revelation of what had  _ just  _ happened, no part of him truly being able to understand the implications of what Lupin had dared to say earlier. 

He couldn’t have possibly been serious, could he? Truly, when he had explained to Zenigata that he wanted to be the one who finished the date, he was doing nothing but telling a bad joke, right? That had to be it-- there was no way in hell the inspector was going to believe that somebody like  _ Lupin  _ would ever look at him… in that… way… 

Zenigata screwed his eyes shut tight, trying to regain his composure, pushing away from his car and concentrating on how cold the metal of its door felt beneath his fingertips. Concentrating on the gentle _ whoosh  _ of the wind, concentrating on the way snow flitted softly atop his eyelashes and clung for a moment before melting, concentrating on how the sheet of white sitting messily beneath his shoes crackled and crunched with every move he made, concentrating on the sound of his name being called from a distance. 

He opened his eyes, brow furrowing damn near instantly as he whipped around, expression one of confusion and partial annoyance. Who the hell had called out to him? Was it that kind waitress from earlier? Did she want him to pay after all? Had he left his coat? 

Rather absently, rather stupidly, he patted at his sides and arms. Nope, his coat was intact, clinging to his dress shirt almost uncomfortably. He hadn’t even taken it off once during the night, so there was no reason for anybody to call him.

“Pops!” Cried the voice, accompanied by the tell-tale sound of footsteps running across a snowy parking lot. 

At the familiar nickname, Zenigata froze in place, eyes widening further, brows raising as his gaze locked onto a figure dashing towards him, holding the cardboard to-go box as well as… something else in the same hand. It ruffled and flittered about, bouncing with each step he took, seeming to be lighter than air and almost slipping right from his hands as he stumbled over a rock poking out subtly from the thin sheet of white. 

Lupin was approaching fast, and Zenigata was completely motionless, though he was unsure whether he was too shocked to move or if he  _ wanted  _ the thief to catch up to him.

“I’m glad--”  _ huff huff  _ “--I managed--”  _ huff huff  _ “--to make it before you left!” Lupin panted as he closed in, slowing down to a slow trot as he shoved his free hand rather nonchalantly into his pocket, grinning that five-star grin he so often did. As much as he hated to admit it, Zenigata  _ did  _ find the expression rather stunning and swallowed thickly whilst he turned to face the thief, feeling that dizzying feeling pick up once more, legs reducing themselves to mere jelly. He almost smiled. 

“Lupin,” was all that he managed to say, stunned eyes blinking oh so slowly, mouth feeling dry as cotton. 

“You parked all the way in the back,” the thief chuckled lightly. “I had no idea what your car looked like, so I started running all over the place-- sure was lucky I finally caught up to you, yeah?” Lupin explained with a childish sense of excitement that made his eyes shimmer in the dim light of the streetlamp overhead and his mouth curl upward just at the corners-- quite an endearing sight, the inspector had to admit-- as, with an equal amount of enthusiastic energy, he held out what he had been holding for Zenigata to see. 

“What…” Zenigata began, but cut himself off when he recognized the familiar bundle of forget-me-nots and sprigs of baby’s breath spilling over Lupin’s fingers, a few petals drifting lazily toward the ground, though some got caught up in the breeze and flitted oh so softly away. “...my bouquet?” He asked quite stupidly, staring at it with his eyes blown wide and his mouth drawn small and timid. 

“Mmm,” Lupin confirmed, pushing the flowers forward, indicating that Zenigata should take them. “you left them on the table, and I figured something so pretty shouldn’t be wasted,” 

“Pretty?” Zenigata asked, voice much gentler than he had intended. “These are so…  _ small,  _ though, and look, see? They’re wilting already even though I bought the bouquet just before I arrived,” he frowned, leaning forward for God knows what reason and drifting his hands forward, one cupping Lupin’s fist as it grasped the bundle of blooms, the other keeping his keychain hooked on his ring finger and pressing it into his palm while he used his index to point out the way the stems were softening and the petals were drooping. “I think some of these stems are rotting, too. Don’t you see them? So I really don’t know why you felt the need to return this to me,” he snorted lightly and looked up to see Lupin’s reaction to his lighthearted sarcasm. 

Much to his surprise, there was none. 

Instead, Lupin stared at him as though he had hung the moon and painted the stars, as though he had swallowed the sun whole and was positively glowing with the warmth of every golden beam, as though he had the ability to breathe life into everything he touched-- including the thief, whose hands were still trembling in his own. 

And then, slowly, Lupin nodded, that awestruck expression melting away into what could only be described as wonderfully fond affection. A chill ran up Zenigata’s spine, and he wished that he could break eye contact, that he could force his gaze to concentrate on something other than Lupin and the way his face looked so kind and his lips looked so sweet as they smiled. He almost felt sick, but he knew in his chest that it wasn’t bad. This was a good sick, wasn’t it? 

“Say, Pops,” Lupin said, his previous expression immediately being replaced with that classic grin Zenigata could’ve sworn he hated just a few moments ago, but now seemed more charming than ever. “you know, my offer still stands,”

Immediately, the inspector groaned, leaning back and slapping the palm of his head to his forehead, allowing his body to fall back against his car, heels digging into the snow-covered concrete below. His stomach flipped giddily. 

“You’re still on about that?” He asked, feigning exasperation as he peeked through his fingers to see the thief’s reaction. 

Just as he had expected, Lupin was grinning excitedly and nodding, rocking casually back and forth on his heels, smiling that Cheshire smile of his, and moving his hands behind his back in a picture of false innocence. 

“C’mon now, Pops! Don’t be such a wet rag!” 

“I’ve never heard that expression before, you know,” 

“Then I can teach you during our date. Trust me, by the end of tonight, you’ll be as hip with the kids as your heart desires,” 

“That is  _ not  _ what my heart desires,” Zenigata rolled his eyes, biting back an involuntary smile that threatened to break out across his face like a bad blemish. As humiliating as it was to admit, he was grateful Lupin had shown up-- their teasing banter lessened the sting of being asked out on a date and then stood up. 

“Then what’s it want, dear? Me, obviously, right? So lemme in, I’ll drive you home and open your front door for you,” 

“Don’t you have a car?”

“Got here via Jigen and Goemon, they were going to a restaurant and so was I,” 

“To spy on me,” the inspector snorted. 

“To spy on you,” Lupin nodded, confirming with a smile. “so what do you say, gorgeous? How’s about I sweep you off your feet tonight and you can decide how you feel in the mornin’,” he winked, reaching out to grasp Zenigata’s arm and pull him away from the car, and the way his fingertips pressed into the inspector’s skin made him shiver. 

Despite himself, Zenigata felt heat rush to his face and, bashfully, he turned away, never knowing quite how to deal with being flirted with no matter how fake said flirting might be. If Lupin noticed his sheepish shift in attitude, he didn’t say anything, instead trailing his fingers down to grasp Zenigata’s hand and pulled him forward as he began to walk. 

“Where the hell are we goin’?” The inspector chuckled, though he was too tired to argue and simply allowed himself to be pulled along, a smile bordering on affection dangerously close to his mouth, so he forced himself to look as reserved as physically possible. Which, let’s face it, is practically undoable when you’re with Lupin. 

_ “You’re  _ going to the passenger seat. And  _ I’m  _ going to slide into the driver’s side and take you back to your hotel room,”

“You know, I never agreed to this. This could very possibly count as kidnapping,” 

“Well, then are you protesting? I can get the others to pick me up,” Lupin stopped walking, though he never did quite relinquish his hold on the inspector’s hand, who, surprisingly… didn’t mind all that much. “tell me, Zenigata, would you like me to whisk you away to the wonderful world of romance that only comes with knowing Lupin the Third?” Lupin asked with a flourish, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly as he teased. 

“Oh, please,” Zenigata replied. “this is hardly romantic, y’know,”

“You’re right,” Lupin agreed, before letting go of the inspector’s hand and instead whipping out the bouquet of flowers Zenigata had left at the table, holding them in front of him as though they were the most beautiful, breathtaking thing in the whole world. “how about now, Pops? Or, ah,  _ sweetheart?”  _

Zenigata snorted. 

“You’re ridiculous. You won’t let me leave ‘til I agree to go on this stupid ‘date’ with you, huh?”

“Absolutely not. I mean really, what’s the worst that could go wrong? You end up realizing that you’re head over heels in love with me?” 

“Oh, please, like that could ever happen. Tell me if it does, you monkey, and I’ll eat my hat for ya or whatever,” Zenigata rolled his eyes, trying desperately to ignore the tint of red staining his face, blooming like a primrose across the apples of his cheeks. 

Lupin smiled. “I’ll be the first to let you know, I promise,”

Zenigata rolled his eyes but allowed the car door to be opened for him and jumped into the passenger seat, the door closing before he even had time to think about what he was doing or why he was doing it or  _ what the hell was going on.  _

And then, in popped Lupin, all smiles and snickers and teasing pokes as he settled into the driver’s seat, prattling on about how much of a gentleman he was going to be and how chilly it was in the car and how it would be so nice when they were finally back to the inspector’s hotel room because at least then there would be a heater.

Meanwhile, Zenigata could only stare, that exasperated expression from earlier beginning to melt off of his face as he gazed at the way the lamplight danced across Lupin’s skin while he began to start the car, at the way his nose would wrinkle  _ just  _ so whenever he smiled as he yammered on and on, not really talking about any particular thing at this point and instead simply… chatting. He stared at Lupin’s hands and the way they slid across the steering wheel with an easy sort of grace, and he stared at Lupin’s mouth and the way it curled with each and every smile that happened to decorate it. 

There was realization in all of Zenigata’s ogling, hidden beneath layers and layers of something else, but he chose to ignore it in favor of leaning back against the passenger seat and watching lazily as Lupin held a one-sided conversation in the driver’s seat of his car. 


	2. p2 of what was supposed to be a oneshot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A promise fulfilled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i meant to get to this sooner im sorry :-( very slow writer waaaa

“It’s so cozy in here,” Lupin’s voice was a little quieter than normal as he strolled in through the entryway of the hotel after having forgotten completely about being the gentleman that he bragged to be and letting himself in rather than holding the door open for Zenigata. Though it wasn’t as though the inspector minded-- watching Lupin pick his lock from down the hallway while he held the key card to the room in his pocket was… a little bit funny, even he had to admit, and he definitely needed a laugh tonight.

“It’s alright,” Zenigata began as he followed, allowing the heavy steel door to close and lock automatically by itself as it  _ whooshed  _ quietly and slowly behind him. “you can just say I’m broke and can’t afford a bigger one,” he rolled his eyes, strolling deeper into the room, shoes meeting the ugly, dull grey carpeting that quite matched the nasty color of muddy brown paint smeared across the walls and the beige sheets that lay scratchy and uncomfortable on the bed. To add to the hideous color palette, the entire room looked washed out and dim due to the fact that the fluorescent lamps had not been clicked on, though thankfully, there was enough light outside to provide ample vision in the tiny room.

Absently, he used his index and middle fingers tossed his key card to the protruding countertop that held an ancient-looking coffee-pot and a few Dixie cups in a stack, the card hitting the tile with a soft sound and sliding across for a moment before coming into contact with one of the cups. 

“Oh, can I?” Lupin asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, arching an eyebrow. 

“Mmhm,”

“Then yeah,” he sniffed. “you’re broke and can’t afford a bigger hotel. They don’t pay you much back at Interpol, do they Pops?” 

“Ain’t this supposed to be a date? I didn’t know you talked about income during your dates, Lupin. That how you sweep ‘em off their feet?” Zenigata replied, somewhat offended that a  _ thief  _ would be making comments on how much he was paid from the real job that he had earned and worked hard for. Of course, he was right-- but that was probably the thing that made the inspector the most irritated. 

Lupin only shrugged playfully, so with a sour expression, Zenigata sighed and crossed the room, already feeling the ache in his ass from sitting on that uncomfortable, expensive chair for far too long. It was certainly a relief to be back in the hotel despite how shitty and low-class it was; that damned restaurant was beginning to get stuffy and uncomfortable what with the combined scent of all those lavish perfumes and garlic-heavy food that poured steam from the kitchen. Here, at least, he would be able to eat cheap and in peace, and who knew, maybe Lupin would even stick around for a cup of instant noodles or a drink (there was box wine in the complimentary mini-fridge. It was overpriced, sure, but there were ways to steal it).

He approached the bed with tired eyes, grunting faintly as he turned to sit on it, feeling abrupt fatigue hit him like a wave crashing into the shore. 

He hadn’t realized he had been so damned exhausted, but he couldn’t help it-- and in his defense, he had  _ plenty  _ of reason to be exhausted. From his peripheral, he was able to see Lupin eyeing him curiously from across the room and chose to ignore it, focusing more on his laces as he bent down and began to untie them, hands shaking ever so slightly, anxiety lapping gently at his insides. He wished that the thief would just  _ say  _ something rather than standing and watching with that odd, patient gaze of his; it wasn’t like him to be so still.

However, he continued to pretend as though he couldn’t feel the way those dark grey eyes were burning holes into his very flesh, instead finishing untying his dress shoes and letting each one fall to the floor with a heavy  _ thunk, thunk.  _

Upon finishing this task, he sat back up, his spine popping in rungs as he did so, and once more he caught the thief in the corner of his eye as he stared, an odd sort of expression etched into his face whilst he did so. Zenigata was quick to dismiss  _ that  _ as well, focusing more on the bowtie tangled at his collar, beginning to fiddle with it haphazardly, though he had made quite the knot, and was having a bit of trouble undoing it.

And suddenly, just like that, the odd spell was broken and Lupin finally spoke.

“Ooohohoh!” He giggled in what must’ve been a flirtatious manner, walking forward with his stupid bow-legged gait, hands shoved lazily in his pockets, fishhook in his eyebrow as a smirk tugged at the right side of his mouth. Zenigata paused what he was doing to look up and catch the thief’s gaze, furrowing his brow and frowning in what was probably more of a nervous grimace than anything else. “Are you getting undressed already, Pops? I had no idea you were in such a rush,” he cooed, and immediately, the inspector felt heat rush to his face. 

“Get your damn mind out of the gutter,” he said somewhat nervously, rolling his eyes, trying to act as cool and collected as was possible while Lupin continued to stride forward in his direction, his playful smirk from earlier no weaker. “you wouldn’t know what it’s like to have a bad tux-- this thing doesn’t fit so well, it’s uncomfortable!” 

“Come on now, Pops, I’ve had plenty of shitty suits in my day. But you are right-- I’ve never had anything fit like that,” he chuckled. “I must admit, though, it’s nice to see you looking a little-- er--  _ cleaner  _ than usual,” he strode ever closer, and Zenigata could feel the heat in his stomach coil and erupt, butterflies beating their wings against his insides. This was not the nervousness he had felt with Satori. 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” The inspector mumbled, and Lupin gave him a small, dismissive shrug. 

“Nothing bad,” he said, stopping right in front of Zenigata so that they were nose to chest. 

He smelled nice, Zenigata thought absently, like almonds and clementine-- a very fitting scent for him, the inspector had to admit, though he had admitted that several times before. Lupin was  _ always  _ this fragrant, and there certainly was something appealing about the way he smelled. The inspector wondered dully where he had bought his cologne-- or was it perfume?-- and if he had it specially made or not. That sounded like a  _ very  _ Lupin thing to do, didn’t it? 

“It just means you’re taking care of yourself a little bit more. At least for a night,” Lupin hummed, those long, thin, beautiful fingers of his reaching out and pushing themselves against Zenigata’s own, moving them so carefully aside.

Instantly, the inspector froze, no longer fiddling with his bowtie and instead going stiff as a board, breath hitching involuntarily in his throat, eyes darting every which way (though with the thief  _ directly  _ in front of him, he wasn’t quite able to get a different view no matter where he looked). 

“Here,” Lupin said gently, that smirk from earlier having melted into something much, much softer, much sweeter. “I’ll get that for you. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, right?” He chuckled quietly, and Zenigata swallowed thickly, nodding as he felt the way Lupin’s hand brushed beneath his chin and he set to work. 

He pushed his index finger into the tie, bending it at the knuckle which rested oh so softly at Zenigata’s skin, prying at the knot with his thumb and pinching at it with his other hand, skin brushing against skin, fingers fluttering lightly underneath a hot, flushed jawline. He made a soft noise of disapproval as his finger slipped, and he attempted to pick at the knot once more, though his fate was the same. 

“Damn, Pops,” he hummed. “were you a boy scout or something? This shit’s impossible,” 

“Not a boy scout,” Zenigata murmured in reply. “just anxious,” 

And with that dumb comment, Lupin paused and let out a laugh, fingers curling up to momentarily cup either side of the inspector’s face, who damn near felt himself get dizzy from the contact. It didn’t seem like he had paid attention to the gesture at all, for as soon as he stopped laughing, he continued his work on Zenigata’s tie, pushing his pinkie finger inbetween the fabric to hopefully separate it long enough to undo the knot. 

“I guess so,” he snorted, at last managing to loosen the damn thing just a bit, which was all it took for the entire bowtie to begin to fall apart. He tugged a little on the fabric and suddenly, just like that, it uncurled and spilled around his fingers, tickling Zenigata momentarily with the way it rustled. 

The very moment it was untied, the inspector couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. “That damned thing was practically choking me, glad you managed to get it off,” he said, finding that his shoulders were beginning to relax despite the close proximity. 

“Whatever makes my date--” Lupin punctuated this word with a wink “--most comfortable,” came his easy reply, and Zenigata huffed, fighting the tint of blush that he was almost forcing itself onto his cheeks, his head feeling blurry and light.

“Oh, shut up about that already, you can drop the act,” Zenigata grumped, trying to ignore how nice it felt when Lupin smoothed his hands over his shoulders, brushing them off a few times more out of habit than anything else. 

“What act?” He asked completely innocently, moving away from Zenigata, who immediately missed the contact (though he wouldn’t ever admit it). “I’m being completely genuine,” he sniffed, taking a seat  _ directly  _ next to the inspector, who couldn’t help but roll his eyes in response as the mattress sagged beneath him and pulled him closer, which he pretended he didn’t notice.

“Oh of course. Am I supposed to expect a kiss at the end of the night just before you leave?” 

“Or earlier, if you’d like, but yes you should expect that,” 

“You’re such a little bastard, you know that?” 

“What?” Lupin laughed, nudging Zenigata in the side with his elbow, though he didn’t need to move very much-- their shoulders were already pressed together, and  _ why  _ the hell one of them didn’t just move as they both knew they were far too close, neither of them knew or understood. “I’m being serious! You are going to be kissed, I’m warning you right now, like, genuinely,” 

“Yeah, yeah, sure okay, whatever,” Zenigata snorted and rolled his eyes, feeling those butterflies in his tummy erupt at full force once more, a few daring to crawl up his throat and tempting him to tell Lupin to just get it over with-- but, of course, he swallowed them. 

He despised how he felt in this moment, he despised how even before he knew he was being ditched he felt sick about going on that stupid date, despised the relief that coursed through his system when Lupin had run after him when he left. Because of  _ course  _ that little monkey would do that, and Zenigata was far too glad that he did-- once in a while, it felt nice to have the roles reversed, it felt nice when the mouse was tripping over himself to get to the cat. And he  _ hated  _ that it felt nice. 

Next to him, Lupin rolled his eyes and huffed lightly. “Okay, just don’t be surprised when it actually does happen,” 

“Sure, sure,” 

“You’ll see,”

“I guess I’ll have to,” Zenigata chuckled, shaking his head lightly and he couldn’t help but smile, eyes a little softer than he had realized. Faded into the ambiance, he could hear the space heater start up again, rattling quietly as it struggled to heat up the chilly room, clearly on its last few breaths; anybody could hear the mechanism whir from anywhere in the room so long as they listened hard enough. 

Down the hallway, there was a faint shout-- barely loud enough to hear-- followed by bouts of laughter which began to grow louder and louder as a gaggle of what Zenigata assumed to be drunk friends shushed each other, snorting and hiccupping and trying and failing to be quiet. They approached and passed Zenigata’s room, and as they lingered in front of his door for only a second, the inspector caught a few giggly cases of  _ shut up!  _ and  _ quiet down!  _ and  _ don’t wake anybody up, jackass! _

From outside the hotel, there was a car alarm that suddenly blared to life, going with the whole shebang-- whirs whines beeps sirens-- you name it. It was annoying, and clearly, a few of the dogs in neighboring apartment buildings thought so, too, for the howls and barks and yaps could probably be heard for miles. 

The city was loud, Zenigata thought for no particular reason. It was loud and brash and it was certainly not his style, but he couldn’t help but love every bit of its raucous nature as he sat in the cheap, shitty hotel room with somebody every bit as loud as the city was, nothing but the glow from nearby street lamps and buildings lighting up for the weekend to keep any of the surroundings visible; he really didn’t know why neither he nor Lupin had decided to turn the lights on. Perhaps it added to the atmosphere, perhaps it was meant to cover up the way their expressions were much more serious than they wanted them to be. Though, more realistically, they were both just lazy and hated the way fluorescent lights looked and felt and sounded-- who could blame them?

In a way that wasn’t very Lupin of him at all, the thief stood up, mattress gently creaking at the loss of weight as he stood and spoke with a soft, gentle voice. 

“Let’s go share that pity cake,” he said, and Zenigata looked up at him, blinking with a stupid, owlish expression, eyes following his thin figure as it crossed the dimly lit room, slivers of light catching on his shoes or torso or the very tips of his elegant fingers. 

He stopped in front of the small countertop in which Zenigata had thrown the keycard, gently lifting the fancy-looking cardboard box and examining it for a moment before turning around to face the inspector, who was still sitting on the bed and gawking at him rather obviously. 

Without saying a word, Lupin smiled lightly and jerked his head over toward the tiny twin-sized bed that had been made quite recently by the housekeeper and began to walk toward it, features becoming more and more prominent as he was slowly illuminated and enveloped by dull neons and soft shades of yellow from streetlamps and porch lights in nearby apartments whose light spilled in through the enormous window. Nonchalantly, he toed out of his shoes, kicking them haphazardly to the side and nudging them away to make room as slowly, he eased himself down, first getting onto his knees before finally reclining fully onto the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back on one hand which splayed against the floor as the other gently set the box between his spindly, long legs. Expectantly, he looked upward, glancing at Zenigata and blinking as if to ask him why he hadn’t gotten up yet, which made the inspector flush ever so slightly with embarrassment as he realized that he had done nothing but stare this entire time. 

“Well?” Lupin urged, tossing a look of faux exasperation at Zenigata, who rolled his eyes and pushed himself up off of the mattress, scoffing lightly as he did so.

“You’re impatient,” he hummed, hooking his thumbs into his pockets while he walked toward the side of the bed, though he trained his gaze to focus mostly on the window rather than Lupin.

It was floor to ceiling save for five or six inches at the bottom and faced a much less touristy portion of Kyoto. There were no casinos or expensive restaurants or bars flashing in pink neons that smelled like cotton candy and cherry cigars, there were no fancy race cars that needed more gas than anybody could ever hope to pay for or huge apartment buildings with balconies on each and every floor, flooded with decorative lights and lavish furniture and people who all looked like pornstars. 

Zenigata was staying somewhere much more modest-- which was probably for the best due to his poor salary (that Lupin had pointed out earlier). The bars here were tacky and gross, all of their neons flashing out or fading away to melt with the fluorescent glows of shitty rest stops and one grocery store whose produce looks six weeks past their expiration dates. Apartments here hung cheap lights from Christmases five years ago and laundry drying on lines, and the people here looked… like people. People shopping, people taking their kids to school, people walking their dogs, people stopping by to eat fast food after a long day, people cooking the cheapest recipes they could find because money is a little tight right now. 

And then there were the people residing within the tiny hotel room-- people with dark grey eyes and a red suit with snow melting on the shoulders, people with legs a mile long and about the width of a thimble wide, people sitting on the floor reaching up to allow Zenigata to take a calm, warm hand so that he could ease himself down right across.

“Do you think it actually tastes good?” Lupin asked when the inspector placed his palm atop the thief’s and slowly sat down, though instead of legging his legs out in front of him, he shimmied around ‘til his back was leaning against the bed, knees drawn up to his chest as his arms wrapped around and hugged his shins. 

“What, the cake?” Zenigata asked, arching an eyebrow. 

Lupin rolled his eyes. “No, genius, the roaches living in the walls of this crummy place. Of  _ course  _ the cake, you jackass,” 

“No need to be a dick!” 

“Oh, but there’s every need,” Lupin’s smile was evident in his voice, quite similar to the way Zenigata’s was. The inspector wondered if both of their expressions were contagious, wondered if the warmth coming off of his body was just as infectious as the warmth coming off of  _ Lupin’s  _ body. Wondered if they were both coming down with the same fever. 

“Shut up, you idiot,” Zenigata said, and the affection was so obvious the way his tone lilted and shifted that it was almost impossible to ignore. 

“That’s no way to treat your date, you know, but I guess I’ll just be quiet. If you  _ insist,”  _

“I do,” 

And then, Lupin didn’t reply, instead reaching forward to gently pry the flaps of the cardboard box open, pulling them apart to reveal the thick, rich cake within. It had gotten a little smooshed on the ride over, a large patch of frosting now clinging to the left corner, but other than that, it was perfectly preserved in all of its creamy glory. 

“I mean, it  _ looks  _ nice, right? Almost too nice to eat,” Zenigata laughed, peeking back up at Lupin for a confirmation. When he got none, he shrugged it off. “You take the first bite, I’m not all that hungry,” 

And so, wordlessly, Lupin reached into the box, and for the first time, the inspector noticed that they were missing a key element in the art of eating cake, which was, of course, a fork or a spoon or  _ anything  _ other than one’s bare hands that could be used to take a piece. 

Of course, though, Lupin wasn’t one to care for such trivial things, and casually tore off a bit of the corner, frosting immediately sticking to his fingers and pressing beneath his nails as he popped it into his mouth, licking off the excess that still remained on his skin before wiping his hand on the carpet like the heathen he was. 

When he finished swallowing, Zenigata waited for a reaction so that he could gauge whether or not he really  _ did  _ want a bite, however, was met with pure silence, which could only mean one of two things. The cake was either so damned good it left the guy shellshocked, or it was the worst thing he had ever tasted and he was trying not to vomit. 

“So it’s alright?” Zenigata asked, arching an eyebrow as a smile tugged playfully at the left corner of his mouth, leaning forward ever so slightly for emphasis. However, once again, he was met with no reaction, and he frowned. “Lupin?” He asked, cocking his head lightly to the side as he stared and, once again, waited. There was nothing passing through the thief’s lips, though, and he remained still and stoic and quiet as anything as Zenigata looked at him and he looked at Zenigata. 

Suddenly, the realization of what was happening struck, and the inspector damn near fell backward as he leaned away and groaned, rolling his eyes and biting back a laugh. “Oh my God,” he sighed, dragging his hand down the length of his face for emphasis. “you really are immature, you know that?” 

“Well, you  _ insisted  _ I be quiet!” Lupin finally barked, laughing joyfully now that the inspector had, at long, long last, caught onto his little game.

“If this were a real date, I swear I would’ve left already,” 

“It  _ is  _ a real date, silly,” 

“Keep dreaming,” 

“Why, ‘cos I’d never land a hunk like you?” Lupin winked, reaching forward into the box once more, and Zenigata couldn’t help but blush at the statement, feeling the way his cheeks heated up to oven-like standards as he tried to roll his eyes but only succeeded in looking toward the window bashfully. 

“You’re even more annoying than usual today,” he grumped, watching from his peripheral as the thief awkwardly tore off another chunk of cake, though it was oodles messier than the last attempt. A small clump of frosting slipped off of the top and landed atop the knuckle of his middle finger, and several moist crumbs came tumbling down to mix in with the carpet. Zenigata felt bad for whoever would be cleaning it up, for he knew for a fact that  _ Lupin  _ wasn’t going to. 

“Annoying?” Lupin asked, shifting and shuffling around so that he was no longer sitting on his ass but rather politely folding his knees beneath him. “I’m just puttin’ on the charm, Pops, nothing more,” 

“Well the charm is pretty damn--” Zenigata turned away from the window, managing to tear his eyes away from the lights in order to face Lupin properly and emphasize what he was going to say next, though every bit of confidence was taken out of his voice when, as he whipped his head around, he was met with the chunk of cake that Lupin had torn off, the thief leaning forward (so that was why he changed positions, ah?), using his free hand to support his weight, an easygoing little grin painted all across his face. “--bothersome.” Zenigata breathed, though it was almost definitely too quiet to hear as he crossed his eyes to stare at the thief’s offering. 

Neither of them moved, Lupin gazing at him with eager eyes and a languid, simple smile that rested lazily at his waiting lips. Zenigata could do nothing but stare, blinking owlishly with a dumb little frown, eyebrows furrowed in mild concern while he waited for something to happen. Lupin didn’t expect him to…?

“...The hell are you doing?” He finally asked, and the tenseness of the situation was so incredibly thick that he found the edge of his words curl into a chuckle.

“Um, being romantic? C’mon, if you don’t keep your end of the act I just look stupid,” Lupin huffed, grinning. 

“You already look stupid, you know,” 

“That’s because you’re staring at me like I’m holding a dead bird instead of a piece of cake,” 

“I’m not staring at you like  _ that!  _ I’m just in awe at how much of an idiot somebody could be!” 

“You’re only saying that ‘cos you’re scared,” Lupin teased, and Zenigata rolled his eyes, groaning in annoyance, though it was far more lighthearted than he expected it to be.  _ Everything  _ tonight was far more lighthearted than he expected it to be. 

“You’re such an ass,” he muttered, trying to fight the smile that was coming onto his mouth and tugging lightly at each corner of his lips, the apples of his cheeks delightfully rosy. Figuring that there was no other way around the situation at hand, he pushed back the laughter that threatened to throw off his whole rhythm as he leaned forward, unable to keep from smiling, opening his mouth slightly. 

“There we go!” Lupin cheered, pushing the cake between Zenigata’s lips, letting the pad of his index finger linger ever so slightly against the soft flesh, a certain warmth clinging to his eyes that the inspector had never seen before-- or, rather, felt. For the heat of it poured into his chest and down to his gut, it bloomed and flowered and it spread out along his veins and filled every inch of his body with that wonderful expression, and despite the inferno that it brought about, Zenigata swore he got chills from it.

The cake was good. It was thick, rich, and moist with cream cheese frosting that was hinted at ever so slightly with orange, the citrus teasing the flavor wonderfully and letting it linger on Zenigata’s tongue. He was surprised that he had gotten something so very obviously expensive as a pity gift, and such a thought made him realize that the actual food served at that restaurant must’ve been comparable to ambrosia. 

“Nice, right?” Lupin teased, reaching out to shove the inspector’s shoulder in a playful manner, who relished in the way the thief’s hand flattened out against him and didn’t leave ‘til the very last moment, fingertips brushing lightly against his tux, a mere flutter that damn near left poor Zenigata with another eruption of butterflies. 

“It’s great,” he replied simply. “I’m glad I didn’t have to pay for it, that’s for damn sure,” 

“Oh, yeah, something like this would probably cost about the same amount as an entire meal at a regular restaurant!” Lupin nodded, pulling off a piece of cake for himself once more, this time from the triangular portion at the front of it, frosting slowly beginning to spill off the edge of the cake like hot magma from a volcano and land onto the cardboard. “I wonder if they’d give you more if you had hammed it up a little,” 

“Hammed it up?” Zenigata asked, cocking his head lightly to the side and leaning further back against the bedside, though he momentarily sat up to take the piece of cake that Lupin offered him. However, when he went to pluck it from his fingers, the thief shook his head and took it back, gesturing to his mouth. 

“This is supposed to be a romantic date, now let me feed you!” Lupin snapped light-heartedly, offering the piece once more to the inspector, who arched an eyebrow. 

“You feed people on dates? That sounds more like babysitting to me,” he said but took the piece anyway; he could feel how sweet it tasted on his teeth.

“You’ve never done this?” Lupin snorted, and Zenigata only shook his head. “Seriously? It’s super sexy--  _ if  _ you know how to do it right,” 

“I personally do not think this is sexy, and if I’m the one you’re on a date with shouldn’t that matter?” 

“If you were someone random then sure, yes, it’d matter. But you’re my special gal, Pops, so I don’t mind all too much,” Lupin winked and began to shuffle closer, scooting the box forward as he did so, clearly not understanding the fact that he had caused poor Zenigata to go through heart palpitations upon saying that last phrase. 

Once more, Lupin tore off a piece of cake, careful not to damage the frosting anymore than it already was as, with his free hand, he gently grasped Zenigata’s wrist and pulled his arm closer. 

“Now,” he began, offering the small chunk to Zenigata, who took it between his fingers as carefully as someone like him could. “you try,” 

For a moment, nothing happened as Zenigata was merely processing the situation, the gears turning in his brain as he worked out something that had been very clearly instructed to him, expression morphing from something casual to a look of, if anything, puzzlement. 

“You want me to what?” He asked in a disbelieving chuckle, arching an eyebrow and huffing ever so slightly. 

“C’mon, I’ll show you how to do it right,” Lupin urged pleasantly, leaning forward so that his face slowly inched closer and closer to the inspector’s. So close that he could see the tiny white scar running like a stream across the bridge of Lupin’s thin nose, so close that he could smell old Gitanes and coffee lingering on the thief’s breath, so close that the warmth in those deep grey eyes was beginning to burn at his skin. 

“You’re such a pain in my ass, you know that?” Zenigata sighed, holding up the piece of cake nevertheless. 

“Well--”

“Don’t you dare finish what you were going to say, Lupin,” 

Grinning impishly, the thief only shrugged and leaned further forward, taking the bit of cake that Zenigata held trembling between his fingertips. After he took it, however, he didn’t draw back, instead allowing his lips to gently brush against Zenigata’s skin long enough to issue the faintest little kiss. A light pressure was all that it was, soft and almost sweet, barely even there, though it practically sent steam fuming out from either one of the inspector’s ears. He swore if his face got any redder, he would find that he had come down with a fever, eyes almost blurry with how dizzy he had gotten from the contact. 

Mouth still pressed to Zenigata’s hand, Lupin’s lips curled into the most adoring smile Zenigata had ever seen as their gazes met for a moment, eyes softening and sweetening in what very well could have been romantic if they were… well, you know,  _ actually  _ on a date. 

The moment was torn apart, however, as Zenigata burst out laughing, using his hand to shove Lupin away whilst he snorted, leaning so far back against the side of the bed it almost seemed as though he was going to slide down onto the floor, grin wider than it had ever been as he snorted, shaking his head so very lightly. 

“What’s so funny?” Lupin hummed amicably, but that only sent the poor inspector into further hysterics, and a fresh wave of laughter took over him, sending tears to sting at the very corners of his eyes, arms wrapping tight ‘round his middle whilst he leaned over, snorting joyfully.

Nothing was even  _ remotely  _ worthy of laughter.

The moment Lupin had kissed his fingers was when Zenigata discovered that he had wished it had been his mouth instead, and though had realized that many, many times, the shock never quite left his system. 

Was it not a perfect time, though? Was the light from the window not gently illuminating and softening Lupin’s features? Was it not dancing within the sparks of his eye and gently highlighting the tint of deepening pink on his thin, velveteen cheek? Was the warmth from Lupin’s entire body not enticing? Not sweet? Not intoxicating? 

Really, in this moment,  _ who  _ could blame poor Zenigata for falling head over heels for somebody that he was convinced he had to hate?

Other than himself, of course-- and that was why he was laughing. The irony of it all, the tenseness of the situation at hand, the serious yet fond look that Lupin had fixed him in-- oh, it was just too, too much. And so he laughed and he continued to laugh, and when Lupin joined in, eyes squinting at the corners, dimples shallow yet visible in the dim light, he knew that thief would never ever understand that his laughter was more out of sorrow that it was joy. 

“You are  _ such  _ a jackass,” Zenigata simpered as he came down from his giggle high, shoulders still shaking ever so slightly, light twinkling and dancing in his eyes while he smiled. Lupin smiled back. 

“Whaaaaat?” He grinned. “I was only trying to make you feel like my  _ special gal,  _ you know,” 

“Stop calling me that!” Zenigata snorted, reaching out to swat Lupin playfully on the shoulder with the back of his hand, and oh, he could just tell that his expression was much sweeter than he wanted it to be. 

“I can’t help the truth!” Lupin sighed, catching the inspector’s hand before he could take it away and pulling it close to his chest, gently grasping at the palm with both of his hands, pressing his thumbs so very lightly into the back of the inspector’s wrist. Zenigata rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t help the smile that formed on his mouth. 

“Now, in this part of the date,” Lupin began simply, turning Zenigata’s hand over so that the palm was facing downward. 

“In this part of the date,” Zenigata parroted in a mutter, rolling his eyes and watching the thief lazily.

“I would kiss my lady’s hand--” 

Of course, the thief leaned down and pecked a scar that ran from the inspector’s middle knuckle and curved around to the top of his wrist. Poor Zenigata swallowed hard, taking a sharp breath and damning his heart for hammering so loudly in his chest. Could Lupin feel it in the veins of his wrist?

“--and then we’d lock eyes,” the thief tilted his head upward, though he brought Zenigata’s hand along with him so that his lips continued to brush against hot skin as he spoke. Zenigata could feel his smile more than he could see it. 

“Okay,” the inspector said. “we’re making eye contact,” 

“Right, perfect. And do you know what I’d do next?” Lupin asked. 

“I don’t,”

“Of course. Well, I would use the hand that I had to pull her in closer...”

Lupin yanked at Zenigata’s hand slightly which tugged him forward, their faces drifting closer and closer together. Their expressions were not serious. Lupin’s free hand drifted forward. 

“...and then I’d cup her face like  _ this…” _

Gently, the thief’s palm slid up the length of Zenigata’s jawline, his thumb resting oh so affectionately just below his right eye, index finger curling around his earlobe sweetly. His eyes grew kind, and his head tilted just barely to the side. 

“...and I would say ‘you, sweet angel, are divine…’” 

Zenigata snorted. Lupin grinned. 

“Then what, Casanova?” The inspector teased, trying desperately to pretend as though this interaction wasn’t pulling him apart at the seams, wanting very deeply to rid the thought of leaning forward and closing the gap that plagued his head like a torrent of weeds in a garden. 

“Well, what do you want to happen next?” 

The question drooped heavily into the air like it had real weight behind it, clinging to the atmosphere and making Zenigata’s expression falter ever so slightly. 

Lupin’s did much the same as his hold on the inspector’s hand tightened  _ just  _ so, almost looking as though he were going to start worrying his lower lip at any second. 

He was asking genuinely. He wanted to know what was going to happen, he wanted to know where all of the teasing and the joking and the laughing was going, where it was taking them, whether or not it was taking them to a real place. Much like Zenigata who could do nothing but stare with eyes that were slowly beginning to realize that this wouldn’t happen-- that it  _ couldn’t--  _ Lupin wanted to understand what was between them. 

And really, what  _ was  _ between them? 

Other than expensive chocolate cake, what was there? Was it important? Did it mean anything? 

Because surely, the way that their gazes poured into one another wasn’t the nothing that they thought it had been before. Surely Lupin’s ever-tightening grip on Zenigata’s ever-trembling hand had to lead to something, anything, anything at  _ all;  _ there was no way that it did not hold meaning to it. Surely, the way the atmosphere was laying thick and heavy over them-- well, God, there was something there, something other than rivalry but more than friendship but just a little bit less than love but very close,  _ dangerously  _ close, close enough to touch. 

So, of course, being a mere breath away from something like that, Zenigata smiled. And he chuckled. And he said 

“Lupin, you’re such an ass,” 

and when the thief released his hand, dropping it down to the floor as he laughed, the inspector could tell that the chime in each giggle was somewhat bittersweet. 

“I’m just showin’ you how it goes, Pops,” he hummed simply, shrugging his shoulders with the softest smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes the way the others had. “showin’ you the ropes, if you will. So that your next date can have the true romantic experience,” 

“Ah, right, of course. My next date,” Zenigata hummed, leaning further back against the bed and resting his head on the mattress, a dull smile on his face as he closed his eyes. “because I’ll definitely have a next date,”

“Of course you will. You’re a knockout,”

“Ha ha,”

“Don’t believe me?” Lupin chuckled, leaning forward slightly to pick up the box of half-eaten cake. It lay within the cardboard confines, leaning over with frosting mostly dripping off the top of it, completely dilapidated and rather ugly after the pair had decided that getting up and finding the plastic forks that the hotel provided simply wasn’t worth it. 

Using his thumbs, he closed the box, fiddling momentarily with it when the cardboard got stuck on itself, and he had to shove it a few times to get it to stay put. In doing so, he most likely smooshed the contents of the to-go box even more than they already were, but to be honest, it’d probably end up in the trash anyway so it didn’t matter what he did with it. Gingerly, Lupin tilted backward and outstretched his arm behind himself, placing the box at the foot of the bed and out of the way before sitting back up again. 

“You know,” he began, shuffling and shifting once more, carpet rustling lightly beneath his feet and hands as he changed positions, mirroring Zenigata and sitting with his back against the frame. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t tried to arrest me yet,” he finished with an absent sniff, continuing to squirm about where he sat ‘til, at last, he was in the position he wanted to be and began his subtle shuffle toward Zenigata. “usually it doesn’t take this long.” 

Cracking open an eye, Zenigata stared lazily while Lupin continued to scoot along the carpet sideways, unable to help himself when he related the movements to that of a silly little crab. At last, shoulder bumped shoulder and there was Lupin, leaning against Zenigata as he let his legs sprawl out haphazardly across the floor, head dangerously close to knocking against Zenigata’s. 

“You got cozy fast,” Zenigata snorted. 

“Yeah, I guess. It’s a little cold in here, so I’m just being resourceful. Body heat and all,” came the soft laugh of a reply, Lupin shaking his head ever so gently; he was joking, obviously, and yet there was a seriousness to how his voice grew quiet and hesitant. “anyway, you’re avoiding my question. Why haven’t you tried to haul me in, Pops?” 

Zenigata pondered this for a moment. 

Why  _ hadn’t  _ he? There were so many moments where he could’ve done so quite simply, he had every chance; it wasn’t as though Lupin was trying to escape. He had had nothing but opportunities to take Lupin up in cuffs and throw him into prison all night long, it would be insanely easy, and now that they were back in his hotel room where his handcuffs were, it’d be at  _ least  _ seventy times simpler to say he was getting up to go to the bathroom or change or something simple and instead get what he needed to capture Lupin once and for all.

Because that’s what he was supposed to do. He had every right to capture the thief right where he sat-- there were certainly enough allegations against him, so it wouldn’t even be mildly unheard of. 

“I guess I just don’t feel like it right now,” Zenigata replied before he had even realized it, frowning once he finished speaking as he realized just how  _ stupid  _ he sounded. 

Lupin noticed, too, for a lopsided smile formed on his mouth and his eyes twinkled with something that probably meant he was going to tease Zenigata for  _ ages  _ about this statement. “You don’t  _ feel  _ like arresting me? Despite the fact that you’ve been trying to do nothing but that for years now?” 

“You heard me,” Zenigata snorted halfheartedly. 

“I guess I did, yeah. Care to elaborate?” 

“Not really,” 

“Don’t be like that, c’mon now! You have to tell me, I would’ve never expected you to answer like that,”

“Me neither,”

“That’s not much of an explanation, Pops,” Lupin grinned. 

“There’s nothing  _ to  _ explain, really,” was all that Zenigata could think to reply, because really, Lupin was right to be confused about what he had said. Even  _ he  _ was confused about what he had said. “I think I’m just too tired to care,” he shrugged, but clearly that wasn’t the right argument to make. 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Lupin frowned, and gently, he nudged Zenigata with his elbow, though he let it linger at the inspector’s side, pressing himself further up against him. “Too tired?” 

Zenigata opened his eyes, finding himself staring dead-on at the ceiling, washed-out blue and red and green from the dim lights pouring in from the city, almost as though those cheap, shitty neon signs that plagued every seedy bar were made from stained glass and this hotel room that smelled like cigarettes and fabric softener was Zenigata’s own cathedral. It was a silly thought to have, but his stomach was beginning to churn, and his head shared a similar fate, so he didn’t mind thinking silly things to try and keep his lower lip from wobbling. 

He liked the warmth that came from Lupin as he leaned further into Zenigata, liked how he could hear the way the thief’s red jacket rustled against his black tux, liked the way he could almost feel warm breath hitting just below his jawline and dancing out across his neck. He liked their closeness, as he always did, and found comfort in the sad irony of it all. 

“Too tired.” Zenigata nodded, smiling lightly and lifting his head so that it was no longer pushing into the mattress, as his neck was beginning to ache. “Besides, it’s not like you did anything wrong. Right now, at least, there’s no real reason to arrest you,” 

At that, Lupin laughed, and Zenigata turned to face the soft sound coming from his smiling lips, eyes closing wonderfully, nose scrunching up in the most endearing way as it always did. He was always endearing. 

“That’s not something you would say, you know,” he sighed, coming down from his little bout of giggles, head cocking to the side as he relaxed his shoulders and sank deeper into the inspector’s side. “you don’t need a reason to take me in, you just do it. At least, that’s how its always been, but I guess things are changing,” 

“I guess. I don’t know, I think I’d just feel bad for taking you in tonight. You were nice to me,” 

“Woah! Hitting me with feelings, are you?” Lupin barked a laugh, and it sounded forced, sounded nervous. “I wasn’t  _ that  _ nice, y’know. I was just doin’ what was right,” 

“I hope you realize that a master thief who should totally despise law enforcement-- and by that I mean  _ me,  _ specifically-- taking a police inspector out on a date is not right. In fact, it’s very wrong in many, many ways,” 

“So you finally admit it’s a real date?” 

“Of course not. I don’t think it can be,” Zenigata hummed, and when Lupin faced the window and gently leaned his head against the inspector’s shoulder, Zenigata had no qualms against allowing his own head to fall gently upon Lupin’s. “more like a one night stand without sex,” 

“It doesn’t have to be without s--”

“Dear God, Lupin, you’re like a rabid dog or something. Shut up before I spray you with water,” 

He hated to admit it, but the inspector quite enjoyed the way he could feel more than see how Lupin shrugged beneath his weight. 

“Okay, well, in that case, what would it have to include to make it a  _ real  _ date? Because, you know, dates don’t even have to be romantic. You could call an outing with your friends a date. When you make plans to take your granny out to lunch, you go ‘oh, okay, so we’re meeting up at two? I’ll see you then, Grandma, it’s a date!’ when it very obviously isn’t _ that  _ kind of date,” 

“You do realize that I’m neither your friend nor your gramma, right Lupin?” Zenigata asked, arching his eyebrow, letting out the faintest huff of laughter. From outside, the call of firetruck sirens wailed down the street, followed by a blur of bright, flashing lights that momentarily painted the room red. 

There was a pause, and Lupin seemed to tense up. Zenigata could practically see the frown on his lips. “You don’t think we’re friends?” He asked quietly. Timidly, almost, shifting slightly as though he were going to draw away from Zenigata’s shoulder. However, Zenigata didn’t let him and instead reached out with his left hand to pat Lupin’s thigh softly, maybe as a form of comfort, maybe as a form of affection, maybe as a bit of both. 

“Of course we are. I just-- well, it’s weird to say it aloud,” 

“Is that why you don’t like it when I call this a date? Because it’s weird to say it aloud?” 

“Hmm,” Zenigata smiled, feeling a bit stupid, for it was true. Saying something like that scared him, and he hated to admit that maybe this  _ was  _ turning into something… a little more real. He hated to even think about it. 

“Is that a yes?” Lupin urged softly, poking at Zenigata’s pinkie finger with his own before, slowly, he curled them together so that they were interlocked. The inspector made no move to separate them. 

“It is. But I also don’t think it’s a real date even if it  _ feels  _ that way. Because for it to be a real, actual, genuine date, there’d have to be two key factors,” 

“Okay, name ‘em and I’ll see if we qualify,” 

“Right. First off, usually going out on an  _ actual, real  _ date with somebody implies that there will be more than one, and obviously, this is a one-time thing,” 

From beside him, Lupin made a soft noise. Nothing more than a hum, though it was not out of agreement so much as it was acknowledgment. 

“And second off, you have…” Zenigata paused, stopping himself short.

Did he really want to continue speaking? Did he want to say what had been eating at his brain all night?  _ Could  _ he say it, or would that ruin things? Not that there was anything to ruin, of course, but there was still the moment that they were in, and he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose the warmth of Lupin at his side, didn’t want to lose the almost annoying sound of his laughter, didn’t want to lose how the thief had kissed his fingers and kissed his hand and had been so comfortable with him the entire time. 

He sighed through his nose and disdainfully realized that despite his best efforts, he finally failed to keep his lower lip from wobbling. 

“...you have to mean it,” he murmured. 

“Who says I don’t?” Came the softened reply. 

“Okay, then pretend that you do. Pretend that we’re on a date and you  _ actually  _ mean it and aren’t just trying to get a rise out of me, and this actually means something. We actually mean something. Pretend for a minute,” 

“I’m pretending,” Lupin said quietly, the jovial playfulness in his voice shifting to something different, something a little more serious as he pushed his hand further into Zenigata’s. 

“Okay. Then what?” Zenigata asked. 

“Huh?”

“Then what, Lupin? If we have a date, would you even think about taking me out again? And vice versa? If I told you right now that after chasing you for so long I really believed you were the only person I could ever see myself with, romantically or not, would you tell me that you felt the same, or would you reveal that this was all a worthless joke?”

“Oh?” Lupin chirped weakly. “What’re you implying, Pops? Am I suddenly your endgame?”

“I think you’ve always been my endgame, one way or the other,”

“I guess that makes sense. So which way will it be?”

“What do you mean?”

“Will you have me one way? Or will it be the other?” 

Gently, Zenigata pushed himself away from Lupin, frowning slightly as he stared down at the thief beside him, who was bathed in the darkness of the room and specks of gold from the city’s lights. Who was gazing up at the inspector with eyes that were completely earnest, with a mouth that read completely serious, with an expression that meant he had truly wanted to know the answer to the question he had asked. 

And by God, what a question it was.

It didn’t make sense, it was just a jumble of words, it was exactly what the inspector had said before only with a pitch difference to indicate something being asked-- but at the same time, there was a heavy truth behind it that scared poor Zenigata to his core.

He knew the answer. He knew which way he wanted Lupin, knew that in the end, he could only find himself loving the thief the way he knew he always did-- but which way would he  _ get?  _ Which way would he be forced to have? To know Lupin by? 

The answer was obvious. Because these things never work out, they’re practically impossible. If you want something, if you beg for something, if you ache for something hard enough to be sick and pray for something even though never once in your life did you ever believe in any religion, that doesn’t mean you’ll have it. And that was the sad part about how Zenigata’s life was at the moment. How it always had been. How it always will be. He would not get Lupin-- not one way  _ or _ the other-- for that was not how their story went. 

But maybe, Zenigata thought as his own expression softened into something that he knew was dangerous, knew was going to cause him pain and regret later,  _ just maybe,  _ he could have the thief in moments. 

And at this moment, he wanted Lupin more than words could even say. So he took him.

Lupin was quite quick to return the kiss, even going as far as to meet Zenigata halfway, his eager mouth warm against the inspector’s while thin, nimble fingers found their way to a trembling jawline, tracing the length, tangling in short hair, skating across a hot, flushed neck. 

A little surprised that the thief had even kissed back at  _ all,  _ Zenigata didn’t quite know what to do with his hands, which waved about awkwardly similarly to how they had when Satori had kissed him. This was a  _ different  _ type of awkward, though; this was crushes and butterflies and oh, God, wow, he actually did it, he  _ kissed me  _ and now I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing! 

Eventually, he found that his palms fit quite nicely at Lupin’s waist, so he allowed them to drift there, pressing ever so slightly into soft flesh, as he tried to pull Lupin closer, momentarily breaking their kiss to breathe for a moment or two before returning, noses smooshing together, eyelashes brushing against heated foreheads, cheeks squished, chests flush up against one another. Arms wrapped and tightened, and suddenly they were infinitely closer. Closer, closer, closer. At that moment, that was all that mattered.  _ Closer.  _

Zenigata held tight to Lupin as though his very life depended on it, finding that each time their lips met, he was falling further and further off-target, his mouth pressing first into the corner of Lupin’s own before falling down to his jaw. And suddenly, he was at his neck, and Lupin was slowly bringing his hands away from the inspector’s face and instead opting to wrap them around his arms. It was only when Zenigata buried his nose into the thief’s shoulder that he realized he had begun to cry.

He cried like he had just gotten his heart split in two, he cried like he had nothing else to do, he cried like his stomach was going to fall in on itself. Shoulders trembling, nose becoming stuffy and slightly runny, eyes screwed shut, brows furrowed-- it was was a rush of emotion.  _ He  _ was a rush of emotion. 

And then, just like that, he was laughing. 

He was still crying, of course, but he was chuckling, too. Not really noticeably, not really loudly, just barely as he rolled his head over to rest his cheek on Lupin’s shoulder as the thief’s hold on him tightened.

“What stage of grief you at, Pops?” Lupin hummed, sounding just a little breathless, his voice stuttering and so quiet that even in a room full of people, only the pitiful, weeping inspector would be able to hear. 

“Fuck,” he responded with a slight hiccup, sniffling wetly. “God, I’m sorry. This is really embarrassing,” 

“It is,” 

“Thanks for the comfort, Lupin, I needed it,” Zenigata deadpanned sarcastically, rolling his eyes, but there was a smile on his lips, and he was sure that it was beginning to seep into his voice. He held Lupin just a little harder. 

“Don’t worry, I can’t make fun of you for it,” Lupin replied, laughing just a little bit. 

“Sure you can,” 

“No, no I definitely can’t,”

“Why not?” Zenigata asked, and upon that question, he felt Lupin wriggle a little bit in his arms, pushing his hands down to reach the inspector’s chest and pressing his palms against it. Nervous that he was suddenly, overstepping his bounds or that the thief had grown uncomfortable in the position, Zenigata instantly drew back, removing his arms completely from around the thief, concern etching itself into his tear-soaked expression. 

To say the least, he was shocked when Lupin wore a similar one. 

“Oh my God!” Zenigata exclaimed, reaching forward instantly to begin wiping at the tears that were welling up and spilling over the thief’s eyes, rolling down his flushed cheeks as his smile wobbled like a ripple in the ocean. “You’re crying!” 

“Am I now? I hadn’t noticed,” Lupin huffed, leaning forward and allowing the inspector to fuss over his face and the tears that continued to spill over it. 

“But why?” 

“Don’t ask me that! Don’t you dare ask me that! You were supposed to be the vulnerable one tonight,” 

“Yeah, I guess I was,” Zenigata chuckled, smiling softly, allowing his hands to rest upon Lupin’s face all for the simple fact that he didn’t want to let go. To be fair, though, Lupin still had his hands pressed up against Zenigata’s chest-- the inspector wondered if it was for the same reason. “the hell set you off, you silly goose? Are you the type of person to cry when other people do?” 

“God, no, I hate crying! It’s so awkward!” 

“Sorry,”

“Don’t apologize!” Lupin snapped, though there was clearly no heat behind his loud tone. He looked exhausted. Probably felt exhausted, too, come to think of it. Zenigata rubbed circles beneath his eyes. “I just--! Oh, God, ugh, I don’t know. You just had some very good points, and it made me realize that I really, really, really meant it! And I guess that’s scary enough for me to cry!” 

“Meant what?” Zenigata asked. Lupin rolled his eyes. 

“This whole time, I knew that this date was real and I knew that I liked it-- but I never really realized that I  _ meant _ the whole damned thing, too,” 

Zenigata frowned lightly. “You don’t have to say that, you know,” 

“I know I don’t! But I am anyway because it’s true, jackass! Fuck!” 

Lupin sighed, shifting positions so that, once more, he was leaning into the inspector. This time around, however, he did it with a little more force, bringing himself up to his knees and using one hand to support himself as the other lightly pushed at Zenigata. 

Taking the hint, Zenigata chuckled quietly and began to lay down against the hardwood floor, shaking his head lightly at the sheer ridiculousness of everything about this long, terrible, wonderful night.

When he reached the floor and began to turn onto his back to make it a little more comfortable for the other man, he found that he was unable to due to being blocked by something-- with, of course, that something being none other than Lupin himself, who had immediately pressed his chest up against the inspector’s broad back, nose burying into his neck, arms hugging around him as much as they could (which wasn’t very far at all). 

“Are you taking big spoon?” He laughed, shuffling to press himself back into Lupin’s tiny frame, who responded by pushing himself closer. “And on the floor, no less? There’s a bed right next to us,” 

“I am literally having a crisis right now and if I see your face or I’m too comfortable I swear to God I’ll fall in love with you,” 

“Then kick me out or something?” 

“No, no, no, I kind of want to. Just… not yet,” 

“What do you mean not yet?” Zenigata hummed, bringing one arm up to rest his head on in sort of a makeshift pillow, nuzzling into the uncomfortable fabric of his suit. 

“Wait a bit. For like, our third or eighth date. And then  _ maybe.  _ But not yet,”

“Our  _ eighth  _ date?”

“Of course. And our ninth and tenth and however many more we go on.” Lupin chuckled into Zenigata’s neck, his breath warm against the cool skin, making the inspector’s hair stand ever so slightly on end and he smiled stupidly, feeling his lashes flutter and mouth ease gently. And then, quietly, Lupin said “Y’know, I told you so,” 

“Told me what?” Zenigata asked. 

“I said I’d kiss you by the end of the night but you didn’t believe me. And then, please tell me  _ what  _ exactly happened just a moment ago?” 

And in response, all Zenigata could do was laugh as he repositioned his hand, elbow going outward so that he could intertwine his and Lupin’s fingers, squeezing hard, the action almost instantly reciprocated as the two lay on the floor, confused and relieved and messy in all of their feelings while the city slowly began to dim, all of the world beginning to fall asleep except the two lying side by side on the floor of Zenigata’s crummy hotel room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was a little bit rushed and very very ooc and. uh. repetative. as always BAHAHAHAHAA idk how i feel about it but i gotta say. it was very very fun to write so i guess that's all that matters babey


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